


Harry Potter and the Prophecy of the Phoenix

by RosYourBoat



Series: The Phoenix Prophecies [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Phoenixes, Prophecy, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-17 01:31:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 57,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4647267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosYourBoat/pseuds/RosYourBoat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After fourth year, Harry is most decidedly NOT having a good summer. Between the Dursley's and the visions of Voldemort assaulting his mind and body, his mental and physical health fall into a dangerous state. An attack at Privet Drive leads to him being whisked away to Grimmauld Place, and when his friends discover what has been happening to him, they immediately descend on him to help him heal. But he may not have as much time to rest as he'd like; Voldemort is becoming more powerful, and Harry must be ready. His family is there to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my recent excavation and expunction of all of my old fics from my hard drive to an online form, where they can be held as an indelible and inescapable memento of my past obsessions. These fics are all unbeta'd and heretofore unseen by anyone but me. I hope someone else feels some of the enjoyment I received from writing them.
> 
> "Harry Potter and the Prophecy of the Phoenix" was written in April of 2008, and is complete. This fic heavily explores the physical abuse Harry suffered under the Dursley's care (warning: graphic descriptions of severe abuse and the repercussions thereof), as well as the love he finds in the family he builds for himself. Much like my fic "Something Different," this features powerful!smart!Harry, neutral!Draco, and nice!Snape. Implied attraction between Harry and Draco, but nothing explicit.

    In the very normal town of Surrey on the very normal street of Privet Drive, something very _abnormal_ was occurring in the smallest bedroom of #4. Behind the door (which was adorned with no less than 5 locks), the bedroom was very sparse; containing a large pile of broken toys in one corner, a rickety desk and chair in another, a small cot, a battered cage (also with a padlock or two) housing a beautiful snowy white owl, a barred window, and a very thin, very sick, and very hurt Harry James Potter.

    At the moment, Harry was laying on the floor in front of the window, his head turned to avoid the bright shaft of moonlight that fell across his bruised and battered body. Harry had been back at Privet Drive for only three weeks, but it already felt like three months; especially since he had only eaten the equivalent of three whole meals in that time. Needless to say, Harry's summer break from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was not going well. It never did, since he had to return to the Dursley's, but it hadn't been this bad in years.

    Uncle Vernon had lost his job. That in itself was dangerous for Harry, but the fact that he had lost his job because an owl had been sent to his office at Grunnings and he had lost his infamously-short temper made the situation almost fatal for the young wizard. Harry had pled with Headmaster Albus Dumbledore to allow him to stay at Hogwarts over the summer - the events of the recent Triwizard Tournament as well as his reluctance to return to the Dursley's abuse forcing him to beg to stay - but the aged wizard had, as always, gently but firmly refused. He had explained that the blood wards around the Dursley household made #4 Privet Drive the safest place for Harry to be. Inwardly, Harry had greatly disagreed, considering his past experiences with Vernon, but he had soon given up.

    If he had known that Dumbledore had sent a letter explaining the events of the Third Task to the Dursley's and thus causing Uncle Vernon to strangle the messenger owl and trash his office in a rage, Harry would have tried harder to convince the old man.

    As it was, in the two weeks after Uncle Vernon had been fired (two weeks before Harry returned), Vernon had managed to find another job, but as a consequence, was forced to take three months of anger management seminars before he would be eligible for consideration for a raise. Needless to say, the seminars were worthless, and Vernon had returned to his old stress-relieving activities - mainly, beating Harry.

    In the three weeks since returning to Privet Drive, Harry had quickly changed from the slender, confident, and healthy boy he became during the 9 months at Hogwarts to the more familiar emaciated form of himself that the Dursley's preferred. Beneath the baggy hand-me-downs from his whale of a cousin, each of Harry's ribs was visible, one or two of them currently cracked or broken, and his limbs constantly trembled from a nauseating mix of pain, fear, exhaustion, hunger, and the lingering after-effects of the Cruciatus Curse. The mesmerizing, sparkling green eyes he was famous for had become dulled by pain and regret since Cedric Diggory's death, but they were now nearly dead from a combination of the Dursley's treatment, what he called his "normal" nightmares (involving Cedric, his parents, and Voldemort), and most recently, his visions.

    Ever since Voldemort's resurrection a little over a month ago, Harry had been regularly dragged into Voldemort's twisted mind when he slept, witnessing events from the Dark Lord's point of view as they were occurring. These more than anything, even the beatings on his physical body, are what caused Harry's current pain and anguish. Two, three, sometimes even four times a week, when his exhausted body collapsed into reluctant unconsciousness, Harry was forced to witness the deaths and torture of dozens of people - muggle and wizard alike. In these visions, he is frozen and unable to do anything but scream in pain as he experienced each of Voldemort's curses as if they were cast on himself.

    Forced to search for a bright side in order to stay sane, Harry was glad to note that not every vision included tortures and deaths. Sometimes, he was able to witness Death Eater meetings and glean information and plans from Voldemort's own mind, and it was at times like these that Harry was grateful for the cursed connection - at least he could prevent others from dying. However, a result of these constant reminders of what he had unwillingly helped resurrect was the twisted notion that he deserved the pain he was receiving. Years of being belittled and abused in nearly every manner possible had deeply, subconsciously, ingrained in Harry the thought that he was a burden, that everything was in some way his fault. Those years had also instilled a deep, sharp loneliness - a longing for the love and comfort he had never received - and the result was what he friends jokingly referred to as his "saving-people thing".

    But it was worth it.

    A soft coo broke the stillness of the night and Harry reluctantly turned his head toward Hedwig, who was watching him intently with a soft, compassionate gaze. It was at times like these that the bird seemed almost human.

    "Hey girl," Harry whispered with a soft, raspy voice. He had lost his voice to the screams long ago. "Sorry I can't let you out. I don't want to push Uncle Vernon too far today." Inwardly, a stubborn voice left over from Hogwarts snorted, _And just how far is 'too far?' When you're dead?_ "I'll try and send you out tomorrow night, all right, girl?"

    A quiet hoot was his only response. It was one of the best - and worst - things about the summer. While he couldn't receive any mail from his friends (it was too dangerous), Harry had been forced to keep Hedwig with him to send reports to Dumbledore about his visions, and she was quickly turning into the only anchor currently keeping him sane. He had planned on sending Hedwig to the Weasley's for the summer, fearing for her life in the Dursley home, but Dumbledore had insisted that he keep her with him. The only provision that Harry had managed to squeeze from his uncle was that he was allowed to send Hedwig on errands, but only at night. Vernon had warned him against telling anyone about the abuse by saying that he would tell the police that Harry was in contact with the murderer Sirius Black; this would put Harry under so much scrutiny that Sirius couldn't get him out anyway.

    Not that Harry would even dream of telling anyone. He was too ashamed.

    _Imagine if they saw the 'Great Harry Potter' now,_ he thought sardonically. _The bloody Boy-Who-Lived living worse than a house-elf. Malfoy would have a ball._

    With this last thought, Harry succumbed to his body's exhaustion and let his world fade to black.

* * *

  
    _Memories flitted past his mind's eye, little snatches of the past overlapping with the present._

    _"You lazy piece of filth!"_

_"Worthless, just like your useless, freaky parents."_

_"Shut up, freak!"_

_Time suddenly slowed and came to a halt. A heavy backhand sent Harry flying into the wall, feeling his glasses gouge deeply into the sides of his nose before they shattered and sent glass fragments cutting into the soft skin of his face. It had barely been a day back from Hogwarts and he had already managed to get on Uncle Vernon's bad side. What had happened? He crumpled to the floor and the air in his lungs was quickly expelled with a pained_ whoosh _when a boot connected solidly into his side._

 _"You freak! It's all your fault that I lost my job," his uncle ranted, his face purpling, as he continued kicking the boy on the floor. "You, with your freaky friends sending bloody_ **owls** _to my_ **office**! _Telling us to be nice to you, a murderer!"_

_Harry whimpered as he attempted to curl into a ball and protect his vital organs, his enraged uncle's words ringing in his ears, but he was quickly hauled up by the collar of his overly large shirt, nearly choking in the process, and he was suddenly being tossed into the small cupboard under the stairs. His old bedroom._

_"Get in there, you filthy mutt. No food or sunlight for a week. Then it's back to chores; we've fed you and clothed you and put a roof over your ungrateful head for fourteen years, it's about time you start earning your keep."_

_Vernon's parting words and the subsequent click of the padlock barely penetrated the thick haze of pain Harry was in, but he was awake enough to snort very softly._ What have I been doing since I was five then, Uncle? Cooking for fun? _However, the humor quickly faded as he resigned himself to his situation._ Good thing I ate before I left Hogwarts. I have a feeling it's going to be the last full meal I have in a very long time.. _.  
     
    _ "BOY! Get up, _get up,_ you lazy brute! Hurry up and fix our breakfast!"

    Harry jerked awake at the shrill screeching and instinctively rolled away from the sound, curling up and wincing as his broken ribs rubbed painfully together. He had apparently fallen asleep on the floor facing the door, with his back to the window, and he let out the softest of groans as he cautiously raised himself onto his hands and knees before sitting back on his haunches. He paused as long as he dared to let his head stop swimming before standing and making his way shakily to the door. He was grateful for the relatively easy rest he'd had - dreams, or rather memories, of Uncle Vernon's punishments were rather easy to shake off and he didn't wake up screaming from them.

    Gripping the handrail weakly but determinedly, Harry moved down the stairs as fast as he dared, favoring his left leg - which had a deeply bruised knee and torn muscles in his calf - while stepping carefully on his right leg, whose ankle was sprained. He had learned the day after spraining the ankle that moving slowly on the stairs was inviting Dudley to push - or kick - him down them. He entered the spotless kitchen, which was thankfully empty, and set about making a sparse breakfast for his family. Dudley was still on his diet, but somehow he was bigger than ever and the Dursley's had been forced to buy a larger, reinforced chair for the kitchen table when the other had broken.

    Harry fixed up the toast, tea, and grapefruit as quickly as he could and managed to snatch up two whole slices of bread and stuff them in his pocket before the Dursley's entered the kitchen and forced him to return to his bedroom. He didn't protest and quickly made his way back up the stairs, pausing at the top to catch his breath and let the spots dancing in front of his eyes fade. He entered his bedroom and gratefully sank into the rickety old chair near Hedwig's cage. Pulling out his breakfast, he broke one slice of bread into little pieces and fed Hedwig, who nipped lovingly at his fingers.

    "Here you go, girl," Harry whispered. "I got us some breakfast. It's not much, but I'm glad that you get to hunt when I send you with letters..." The Boy-Who-Lived sat in his bare, blood-stained bedroom and gratefully munched on a single slice of bread, talking to his familiar and waiting for another hellish day to begin.

    True to form, Aunt Petunia soon arrived at his door and shoved a lengthy list of chores at him, snapping at him to get started or he wouldn't eat that day. Harry just sighed and got working. It had been the same ever since he had gotten to Privet Drive. The list had been difficult to accomplish before he had been starved and beaten; now, it was almost impossible to complete before Uncle Vernon got home. Still, he worked as quickly as he could in the hopes that he might actually get a meal at the end of the day.

    Many hours later, Harry somehow managed to drag himself back to the room and collapse onto his bed, barely managing to let Hedwig out of her cage to hunt. _I did it._ He had actually completed the list mere minutes before Vernon had arrived, and Aunt Petunia had reluctantly given him a half of a rather stale sandwich as his reward. He had eaten it as quickly as he could, knowing that if he slowed to savor it like he wanted to, he would get too full to finish. If nothing out of the ordinary occurred for the rest of the night, he might even pass the night without Uncle Vernon "punishing" him.

    Uncle Vernon's punishments had become more calculated and sadistic than in the past, when he had just kicked or punched him. Now, more often than not, they involved a belt, handcuffs, and once, when he had been drunk, a knife. Harry still wasn't too sure what else the man had carved into his body besides the word that he had engraved in the small of his back. He had passed out after that was completed.

    Harry rolled over painfully onto his side and stared at the beautiful sunset outside the barred window. He wasn't sure how much longer he could last. It had only been three weeks and he already felt like dying. His only hope was that the Weasley's had convinced Dumbledore to let him stay the majority of the summer with them.

    Suddenly, a sound like a great gong being struck reverberated through the neighborhood, startling Harry so much that he nearly fell to the floor in his haste to stand. Ignoring the dizziness, he rushed to the window and felt the blood drain from his face at the sight that greeted him. A large group of people in black cloaks and white masks were alternately throwing spells at #4, causing a fiery red shield to flare and flicker around the house as the wards absorbed the attacks.

    "What the hell?" Harry gasped. He hadn't seen any hint of this in Voldemort's mind, or in any of the Death Eater meetings. What was Voldemort playing at? He had to know that those wards were unbreakable. "Where the hell is Dumbledore?" Harry breathed harshly as he anxiously watched the Death Eaters. They were spreading out now, going to other houses in the neighborhood and dragging the muggles out of their homes, and soon the familiar shrieks that accompanied the Cruciatus Curse filled the air. Suddenly, a flurry of popping sounds erupted from the street and wizards wearing blood red battle robes appeared, headed by none other than Albus Dumbledore. A vicious firefight quickly ensued and Harry could just make out the familiar blazing red hair of the older Weasley children.

    Harry felt sick. He had to do something!

    Just as he was turning to dash haphazardly to his trunk of school supplies that were locked in the cupboard under the stairs, Harry was quickly halted by the appearance of a ball of fire erupting in the middle of the room. The ball seemed to be spinning in air, dripping golden tongues of fire, a split second before the ball exploded in a shower of sparks and a familiar phoenix appeared in its place.

    "Fawkes!" Harry yelped. The bird let out a comforting stream of notes before settling on his shoulder and squeezing softly with his talons. "What are you doing here?" Harry asked in confusion, but his only response was a cheerful trill and a tightening grip on his shoulder. As a familiar feeling of warmth and weightlessness swept over him, his eyes widened and he tried to jerk away from the bird. "No, wait-!"

    But it was too late. In a flash of golden flame, his bedroom at Privet Drive disappeared and he felt as if his body had disintegrated into ash. It wasn't painful or disorienting; rather, it felt like a gust of hot wind had swept him away and a second later his body caught up with him. He felt a burst of displaced air and magic as he appeared in a different place, his feet settling gently onto the carpet as a soft trill came from the warm weight on his shoulder. In the next second, Fawkes was gone in another flash of fire and Harry was alone in what appeared to be a dark, dingy kitchen in the basement of a house.

    "Damn!" Harry muttered as he sat in a chair at the table and raised trembling hands to run through his hair. What was going on? Why had Voldemort attacked? Why did Dumbledore send Fawkes to bring him here? He needed answers. He stood up again and made his way over to the stairs knowing that the burst of adrenaline he was currently running on would soon fade and he would be in even worse shape than he was before. Finally reaching a door at the head of the stairs, Harry cautiously opened it and peered into an empty hallway. To his right the hallways ended and opened up to an entryway that had several sitting rooms branching off of it. Heading in that direction, he stopped abruptly when he saw the familiar form of his godfather pacing the living room in front of a large fireplace.

    "Sirius?"

    At his disbelieving voice, the animagus froze, his head snapping up, and he launched himself at the small boy. Harry backpedaled in surprise and caught his injured foot on the edge of the large rug in the entryway. He yelped in pain and surprise as he fell on his arse, the breath whooshing from his body as his fractured arm gave way and he thumped onto his back. He groaned as he tried to keep still, the pain throbbing with his heartbeat behind his eyes and through his injuries. Sirius' face appeared above him. Without his glasses, Harry couldn't see anything specific, but his godfather seemed to be smiling. His voice, however, had an undercurrent of concern as he spoke.

    "Watch where you're going there, kiddo. You alright?"

    Harry just groaned in response and carefully got to his hands and knees, his body shaking slightly as he stood. Instantly, he was caught up in a tight hug and he gasped, a small whine of pain rising unbidden from his throat. It was enough to make Sirius release him quickly, however, and hold him an arms length away.

    "Merlin, Harry, you're skin and bones!" The animagus murmured in horror. "What happened to you? Were you attacked? Are you hurt?" Harry mustered up a faint but genuine smile. Merlin, but it felt good to be cared about again.

    "Don't worry, Sirius, I'm fine. It's just the Dursley's being the Dursley's... and besides, I haven't had much of an appetite since the Third Task." That made Sirius sigh and squeeze his shoulder.

    "It's not your fault, Harry. You know that, right?" Harry nodded, but kept his eyes averted to the side.

    "I know." He whispered. Then, before Sirius could pursue the subject further, he asked urgently, "Sirius, what happened at Privet Drive? Death Eaters attacked, but before I could do anything to help, Fawkes whisked me here."

    His godfather sighed and led him back into the living room and sat him on a dusty couch in front of the fire. "I'm not too sure. Dumbledore just showed up and said that the wards at your house were being attacked and he gathered up a bunch of people and they left to fight. I'm not allowed to go anywhere in public, so I'm stuck here waiting for them to come back, like you. We were planning on picking you up on your birthday, but apparently Dumbledore decided that you had been there long enough."

    "Thank Merlin for that," Harry breathed to himself, but not quietly enough, for Sirius sent him a strange look. "So what is this place?" He asked quickly. Sirius glanced around and waved his hand in a sarcastic manner, gesturing to the dark surroundings.

    "This is the Great and Noble House of Black," he intoned in a mockingly solemn tone, "otherwise known as #12, Grimmauld Place, where I, unfortunately, grew up. As you know, most of my family was Dark and they had a terrible fit when I was sorted into Gryffindor and became Light. They threw me out, stopping just short of disowning me, and the house fell to me as sole Heir when my older brother Regulus died. It hasn't been used in over fifteen years and I haven't been here long, so it's still pretty filthy. Try not to wander around much while you're here; we haven't cleared out all the Dark objects and creatures yet."

    "So I'm staying here for the summer? With you?" Harry asked eagerly. Sirius nodded, smiling widely.

    "Right in one. You can even practice magic here; the house is unplottable under the Fidelius Charm and covered in so many wards that the Ministry can't even tell magic is being done."

    Harry's emerald green eyes brightened at the prospect of learning more magic and he immediately began plotting a way to get to his wand and casting some glamour charms on himself. At the moment, however, he would just have to go with the good old method of gritting his teeth and bearing the pain. Thinking about his injuries brought his attention to them once more, and Harry found that he was losing his energy quickly. If he didn't get to a bed soon, he would probably end up passing out on the couch.

    "Hey Sirius, I'm getting pretty tired. Where am I going to be sleeping?"

    "That's right; it is getting late isn't it? Come on, cub, follow me." Harry stood slowly and paused to let the spots in front of his eyes fade on the pretense of staring at a painting on the wall before following his energetic godfather to the base of some stairs opposite the entryway door. Climbing the long flight of stairs and trying to appear interested and uninjured while Sirius rambled on about the house (which was actually a mansion) turned out to be one of the hardest things Harry had ever had to do. He tuned out Sirius rather early on in order to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other and he barely noticed where he was being led until he reached a door on the third floor.

    After entering the room, the next several minutes were a blur. He had the sense of a room decorated in deep green and black and recalled Sirius complaining quite loudly on the fact that he hadn't had time to change the decorations. Beyond that, he figured that he must have bid Sirius goodnight and climbed under to cool silk sheets before falling completely unconscious.

* * *

     
    Harry woke slowly the next morning, reveling in the comfort of a soft, warm, comfortable bed. He hadn't slept this well in years and it took him several moments to remember what was different. When he did, he was instantly awake and sat up, ignoring the dizziness that sent his mind whirling. Looking around, he saw that he was sitting on a large four-poster bed with green sheets and black wood framework. The floor was also black hardwood, as well as the sparse furniture which included a desk, a dresser, and two night tables. A door he hadn't noticed before was directly in front of the bed and the door leading to the hallway was on the wall to the left. Sliding from beneath the cooling sheets, Harry shivered as his bare feet encountered the freezing cold floor. As quickly as he could, he padded over to the door and opened it.

    Inside, he found a somewhat spacious bathroom decorated in black and silver with both a shower and a large tub resembling a muggle Jacuzzi. Gratefully, he stiffly pulled off his clothes and jumped into the shower, letting the warm spray soothe his aching body. He winced as the water pounded into the healing welts and cuts across his back and he could blurrily see his blood swirling down the drain in gentle spirals. Mesmerized, reveling in the ability to take as long as he wanted in the shower, Harry stayed beneath the water until his skin began to prune. Then, he carefully dried himself and sponged the blood off his back with a ragged towel. Ripping the blood-stained fabric into strips, he wound them as well as he could around his back and donned his cousin's cast-offs.

    He avoided looking in the mirror.

    Feeling both rejuvenated and ravenously hungry, Harry made his way slowly down the hall and down the stairs until he reached the kitchen on the ground floor. Pushing the door open, he faltered when he saw that the long kitchen table was full of people. He had expected to only see Sirius, but as he glanced at the faces, he was pleased to note that he recognized many of the faces. At the head of the table sat Dumbledore, his white beard and twinkling eyes unmistakable even to his squinting eyes, and seated around the table was Sirius, Remus Lupin, Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, and finally Arthur, Molly, Bill, and Charlie Weasley. Among the people he didn't recognize was a young witch with a heart-shaped face and bright purple hair seated next to Professor Lupin, a large, bald black man seated next to Snape, a rather average, if poor-looking man next to Charlie, and a pretty witch with blonde hair and blue eyes next to the black man.

    Harry cautiously made his way over to the empty seat next to Sirius when the animagus beckoned him over with a wave. Mrs. Weasley was immediately up and setting a large plate full of food in front of him, giving a short hug in passing.

    "Good morning, Harry dear," she greeted as she bustled around the kitchen. "Eat up quickly now; you're looking even thinner than ever. Did those horrid relatives of yours feed you anything at all?"

    "Good morning, Mrs. Weasley," Harry replied in a soft, hoarse voice. "It's good to see you all again, Professors, Bill, Charlie." He nodded at them in turn and they greeted him in return, noting that he had avoided answering the question.

    "How are you, my boy?" Dumbledore asked genially, his blue eyes twinkling over his half-moon glasses with some concern at the pale boy in front of him. The aged wizard knew that Harry had been receiving some disturbing visions of late, and he was somewhat alarmed at the Gryffindor's wasted appearance. "And where are your glasses?"

    "I'm fine, Professor, though I left my glasses on my nightstand back in my room at Privet Drive when Fawkes came to get me," Harry lied automatically. His glasses had been broken beyond use ages ago. "Professor, was anyone injured in the attack yesterday?"

    "Nothing fatal on our end, dear boy," the headmaster responded calmly. He conjured up a pair of glasses identical to Harry's old ones and sent them floating down to him. Harry grasped them and quickly put them on, sending a grateful smile to the older wizard. "I'm afraid that we were unable to capture the Death Eaters, however. And do not worry about your belongings; we will send someone over to get them later on." He clapped suddenly, causing Harry to jump, and beamed as if he was at the opening feast at Hogwarts.

    "Ah, I believe there are some introductions to be made! Everyone, I believe you know Harry Potter," the now in-focus people seated around the table nodded, smiling. Snape just sneered. "Harry, the man seated next to Severus is Kingsley Shacklebolt, an Auror for the Ministry of Magic. The lovely young witch next to Remus is Nymphadora Tonks-"

    "Albus, so help me -" warned Nymphadora, drawing her wand aggressively. "I _will_ hex your beard off if you keep calling me that!" She glared at the old man before turning to Harry and waving her whole arm at him cheerfully from down the table. "Wotcher, Harry! If I ever hear you call me anything other than Tonks, I'll hex you into next week!" Harry smiled nervously, uncertain if she was serious or not.

    "Tonks is also an Auror for the Ministry," Dumbledore continued, not disturbed in the least by the threat. "And she is a Metamorphamagus; a witch or wizard that can change their appearance at will." He added helpfully. Tonks winked at him from down the table and scrunched her eyes shut in concentration. A split second later, her nose grew into a great hooked nose that seemed to take up half her face and Harry had to suppress a snort of laughter, causing his ribs to jar painfully. Apparently he wasn't the only one to find the nose familiar; Snape's onyx eyes narrowed and he sneered hatefully at both of them before ignoring them entirely.

    "Next to Charlie is Sturgis Podmore and the witch next to Kingsley is Emmeline Vance." Dumbledore completed the introductions and turned a serious gaze onto Harry. "We are the Order of the Phoenix; an underground group dedicated to the opposition and destruction of Voldemort and his forces. There are many more of us all across the country and I cannot stress to you enough how important it is that the existence of the Order and its' members remain a secret. Sirius has generously provided us with his old home as a base of operations, a headquarters, if you will, and there will be many Order members moving in and out of the house and staying in the bedrooms temporarily. I must ask you to respect their privacy and the privacy of Order business."

    "Of course, Professor," Harry murmured, nodding his understanding. "And I'll keep sending any necessary letters to you, if they're helpful." The old wizard twinkled at him gently, but with some sadness.

    "Thank you, Harry, your insights are invaluable."

    "Harry, dear, you haven't eaten even a half of your plate, and what's the meaning of those circles under your eyes?" Mrs. Weasley interrupted, eying him with a stern frown. He cringed inwardly, but didn't flinch.

    "I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley, it's really delicious, but I'm pretty full. Er... I haven't had much of an appetite lately and I haven't slept well in the past week; it's nothing to worry about, though." She frowned, but was prevented from further interrogation by Sirius, who had struck up a conversation about Quidditch with Remus and had asked Harry's opinion on the Harpies. Harry gladly added his two cents and allowed his gaze to travel across the members of the table, who had broken up into their own conversations. Charlie and Sturgis Podmore had started discussing the merits of creating spells to control the wilder populations of magical creatures with Bill listening intently. Tonks had joined in with Remus and Sirius' conversation, and the Weasley parents were quietly discussing something between themselves (Harry had a nasty feeling that it was himself). The rest were discussing yesterday's attack.

    "We can only be grateful that no one was seriously injured on our side," Emmeline Vance was saying, "even if we didn't catch any of theirs."

    "What I don't understand is why You Know Who would attack Privet Drive," McGonagall added. "He _knows_ that those wards are neigh on unbreakable; why would he send his Death Eaters and risk losing them to us?"

    "He didn't." Harry and Snape spoke at the same time, causing them to turn to him in surprise. Snape sneered.

    "And what would you know about it, Potter?"

    "Just as much as you do, Snape," Harry said hoarsely, glancing at him before returning his gaze to the headmaster, who was watching him calmly. "Voldemort didn't send those Death Eaters to the Dursley's; you know that as well as I do." By now the conversations around the table had died off and all was quiet as all eyes trained on Harry's slight form.

    "Then why did they try to attack you?" Tonks asked. Snape's lips thinned and he looked away stubbornly. Harry chuckled dryly, no humor present in his voice.

    "Besides the obvious? They were most likely trying to gain favor with Voldemort; whoever managed to get rid of the thorn in his side would be greatly rewarded, right? They were probably new and reckless; all the seasoned members know by now that attacking without Voldemort's orders would only result in their own pain and torture, even if they had succeeded. No one undermines his power and authority without paying for it. And not only did they fail, but they were also injured by enemy forces; they should be well-cursed, if not dead, by now."

    Harry glanced down at his plate for a moment in silence before pushing his chair away from the table and standing. Carefully gripping the table so that he wouldn't sway, he tried to focus his spotted vision on Dumbledore and Sirius. "I'm going to study for a bit in the library before taking a nap. Wake me up for lunch, will you, Sirius? Good day, Headmaster, everyone." He nodded to the still-silent crowd and only received a nod from Dumbledore before he turned and made his way slowly to the library.

    Several hours later, after he had located the library that he remembered Sirius mentioning and picked out books corresponding to the years leading up to fourth year, Harry carried the books up to his room and immediately fell asleep on top of the comfortable sheets. When time came for lunch, Sirius opened Harry's bedroom door only to see Harry writhing around on the bed silently, his face scrunched in pain and distress. Immediately, he bolted across the room and shook his godson gently on the shoulder, calling his name quietly. He didn't expect Harry to jerk away from him violently and fall off the side of the bed, a strangled cry of pain escaping from his lips.

    "No-!"

    Sirius froze in shock as Harry trembled and hesitantly opened his eyes. When he saw the pale animagus staring at him, his eyes widened and all color drained from his face.

    "S-Sirius..." he whispered.

    "Harry, what happened?" Sirius asked.

    "Nothing, nothing," Harry insisted tiredly, slowly getting up and running a hand through his hair. "Just a nightmare. Is it time to go to lunch?" Sirius frowned at the topic change.

    "I-"

    Just then, the door burst open and Tonks waltzed in, her hair a bright lime green. "There you are! What's taking you guys so long, eh? We're starving down there! Oh, by the way, Harry, your owl came back just after breakfast and a few of us are going to head over and get your school stuff later; where's your bedroom?"

    "Er, it's at the end of the hall; the third door on the right when you head up the stairs. You can't miss it. My trunk is locked in my old- in the cupboard under the stairs, though. The only things in my room are Hedwig's cage and some things under the floorboard under my bed. Er... you're not going to go while my uncle or aunt is there, are you? I don't want to bother them."

    "Nah, we'll go in the middle of the day, when your aunt and cousin are gone."

    Harry nodded and just then a thunderous rumbling came from his stomach and he blushed. It hadn't made that sound since the first week at the Dursley's. Tonks and Sirius laughed and poked fun at him as they went down the stairs to lunch. The day passed quite peacefully after that. There weren't nearly as many Order members at lunch as there were at breakfast, but Harry tried to get to know the Order members that would be around most often; such as Shacklebolt, Tonks, Professor Lupin, and even Mad-Eye Moody, as it turned out. Tonks was always up for fun and acted more like a teenager than an Auror; Shacklebolt was solemn most of the time, but he had a sense of humor that tended to surprise people with its lightheartedness. Professor Lupin was much like he was at school; kind and supportive, with just a hint of the traits that made him a Marauder. Moody, on the other hand, was just as paranoid as ever, if not more so.

    Harry figured that spending nearly a year locked in your own trunk would do that to you.

    After eating, he retreated to his bedroom and started poring over the spellbooks he had collected from the library. After the Tournament, Harry had seen the benefit of learning as many defensive spells as he could; some of the spells he had studied for the Tournament had saved his life. He wanted to go over the last four years of schooling and see what else he had missed.

    Dinner soon came and went, and when he found himself nearly falling asleep at the table in front of his barely picked-at food, Harry excused himself and returned to his bedroom to sleep. He missed the concerned glances that were exchanged as he left. He wanted to sleep as much during the day as he could, when there was less chance of Death Eater activity, so that he could recover his strength quicker and so it decreased the chances of a vision.

    As fate would have it, however, he ended up sleeping almost entirely through the night and he woke in the middle of the night with a strangled scream, immediately turning onto his side and retching over the edge of the bed. The sick was gone with a muttered _Scourgify_ and Harry collapsed onto his back, panting and shaking. He didn't even realize that he had performed wandless magic. He was too busy thinking about the vision; involving a woman (an Order member), her family, and Death Eaters having fun.

    Feeling sick and irritable, Harry rolled over and left the room, slowly making his way down the stairs. He pushed open the kitchen door and paused, seeing it was magically expanded and filled with many more Order members than before, though all of the ones he recognized were there again. Seeing him looking as pale and weak as ever, with dull, dead green eyes, they all stared in confusion, concern, and even annoyance. Harry didn't care; after the night he'd had, he had every right to be there, and he could see that Dumbledore knew it.

    He made his way slowly to an empty seat next to Sirius and sat down, rubbing his face hard beneath his glasses. Even though he had slept for most of the day, he felt like he had been up for three.

    "Merlin, I'm tired," he sighed, though in the silence of the room it sounded like he was speaking normally. "Bloody Voldemort, waking me up in the middle of the night to share some of his fun."

    "Ah, I take it that you had a vision then, Harry?" Dumbledore asked solemnly, the twinkle absent from his eyes.

    Harry nodded. "Yes, what can I do to help?" This seemed to rouse Molly Weasley from her stupor and she straightened up self-righteously.

    "Harry Potter, what are you doing out of bed? We're having a meeting here!" Several people seemed to agree with her here, and Harry's eyes flashed in irritation, but the Headmaster intervened.

    "Now now, Molly, Harry has much to add to this meeting due to his... unusual circumstances. Harry, I must ask that you leave and try to get some sleep after you give your report; there is still much that needs to be discussed among the Order tonight." Harry nodded in understanding. "Very well, my boy. It appears that one of our number, a Margaret Crawford (I don't believe you've met her), is missing. Only an hour ago, Margaret's friend, Emmeline Vance here, received the Crawford's owl, which held a piece of bloodied parchment. When she attempted to contact Margaret, she could not get a hold of anyone and so she Flooed to the Crawford's home. There she found Margaret's husband and two children, dead. Margaret has not been found."

    Harry was silent for a moment, his face paling even more than was thought possible. He turned to face Emmeline Vance, whose eyes were red-rimmed from tears but her face composed.

    "Was she a rather tall lady with long black hair and brown eyes?" When she nodded, Harry stood up abruptly. "Excuse me," he muttered and fled quickly to the entrance hall. The people gathered in the kitchen were alarmed when they heard his knees hit the floor and he began retching, though it didn't sound as if much of anything came out. Sirius half-stood in alarm, but Remus put a hand on his arm and shook his head quickly. A few moments and a muttered _Scourgify_ later, Harry reentered the kitchen and shakily rinsed out his mouth before he sat in his seat.

    "Sorry. I think I can help you there," he said quietly, his voice shaking ever so slightly, "though I've never met her before." At these words, Dumbledore seemed to age several years and his eyes dulled to a flat blue.

    "Indeed," he murmured. "What can you tell us about the situation and Mrs. Crawford, Harry?"

    _Mrs. Crawford now, is it?_ Harry thought bitterly. _You know exactly what I'm going to say, Dumbledore. You know me too well._

    "About an hour ago, Voldemort arrived at the Crawford's home and began torturing Margaret for information about the Order." The occupants in the room gasped, but Harry ignored them and continued to stare off absently into space. "Voldemort has been painstakingly collecting any scrap of information he can about the Order and its' members; he wanted to know how extensive your organization is. From what I could gather from his surface thoughts and emotions, he knows very little about how large the Order is and he knows only a few names. So, he ordered an attack on one of the few names he knew; Margaret Crawford.

    "I don't think I need to go into details, but he had both Margaret and her husband tortured extensively for several minutes. She wouldn't say a word other than to curse Voldemort's name and to tell her husband that she was sorry and she loved him. Needless to say, Voldemort wasn't pleased, though he seemed to have expected that reaction. He sent Crabbe and Goyle Sr. to retrieve the children. They were tortured and... played with as well, but she still didn't say anything except that she loved her children and was sorry." Most of the women were crying by now and everyone's faces seemed to be cut from stone as they watched the Boy Who Lived with increasing horror. Harry's eyes drifted across the table and migrated to his trembling hands as he added a final comment.

    "They were all killed soon after. Even though he was disappointed that he didn't learn anything, Voldemort was... pleased at the deaths. It's like... sex, to him." His face twisted into an expression of anger and disgust, and there was a sharp intake of breath around the room. Even Snape seemed stunned. "He's disgusting." Harry whispered shakily. Remus had stepped up behind him, gripping his shoulder in support, and Sirius was squeezing his hand so hard it almost hurt, but Harry didn't care. He squeezed back in gratitude. Absolute silence fell across the room, broken only by the sniffles of those crying.

    "Snape—er, _Professor_ Snape—might know more about the circumstances around the attack, Headmaster," Harry spoke again, glancing cautiously at the bitter Potions Master, but Snape's face was completely blank, his black eyes glittering. "But if I could add some insights...?"

    "Ah, yes, my boy," Dumbledore said gently. "I have always found your insights to be particularly helpful." Harry bowed his head in acknowledgment, but this seemed to rouse Molly Weasley's protective instincts once more and she cried out in disbelief.

    "You mean, he's had these... visions before?"

    Before the aged wizard could answer, the attention was shifted back to Harry as he chuckled hollowly. He felt this was a battle he needed to fight on his own.

    "Mrs. Weasley, Voldemort has been a very busy man-creature since he was resurrected. He needs to make up for lost time; there are things to do, people to kill, governments to destroy. There are only a few of the old crowd free, and even fewer of the Inner Circle, so he has to build up his forces almost from scratch. He needs to sort through potential Inner Circle members, gather and recruit new Death Eaters, instill fear in the hearts of the Wizarding World, take advantage of our Minister's weakness, _and_ kill anyone who opposes him. I know that Dumbledore has told you about my connection to Voldemort though my scar, but it seems as though he didn't tell you how deep the connection goes. As he grew in power, I was always able to feel his strongest emotions, but now that he is resurrected, I'm also dragged along for the ride whenever he decides to relax and have a little fun. While it has been a source of a lot of pain, I've also been able to see several Death Eater meetings and plans and such."

    At this point a stocky, brown-haired man that Harry didn't recognize spoke up. "Not to mean any disrespect, Albus, but how can we be sure that these visions aren't false or planted by He Who Must Not Be Named? He may be trying to lure you into a false sense of security and set a trap for us. He could be watching us right now!" There was an eruption of noise at this, Sirius shouting at the man for doubting his godson, and several others discussing the possibility in a panic.

    Finally, Dumbledore set off a large bang that made Moody's magical eye spin, though the other eye remained fixed in Harry's direction. "That's enough, Elphias," Dumbledore said heavily when silence fell once more.

    "I would appreciate it if you would address your concerns about me _to_ me," Harry said stiffly, bringing everyone's attention back to him. He looked around the room and softened a bit when he met Mrs. Weasley's tearful gaze. "Believe me, I had those same doubts when I had my first vision a few nights before the school year ended. I wondered if it was just a dream, or if I was going mad, but it felt all too real, and I couldn't just dismiss them. I finally went to the Headmaster and explained what was going on, and he agreed that the visions could be sent by Voldemort in order to set a trap in the far future; not much like Voldemort's style, by the way.

    "That's why I send any relevant visions I have to the Headmaster immediately after I have them. My visions usually involve events that are taking place at that exact moment, so I'm not able to save anybody I see killed, but I can try to prevent other deaths by sending information to the Headmaster. He has his own contacts and common sense to make the decision of whether to act on my reports; as far as he is concerned, they are just suggestions and possibilities, subject to change. If he chooses to, he can take the steps to prevent any lasting damage and if nothing happens, then no harm is done.

    "I'm not asking to join the Order and I'm not even asking to know what you plan to do; all I want to do is help as many people as I can survive this war. I know that I'm being used, but I don't care. Maybe later, when I'm better prepared to take care of myself, maybe then I'll want to become more involved, but I don't want to risk anything right now." Harry took a deep breath and coughed a bit; his throat was becoming hoarse with too much talking. Catching Sirius' encouraging smile at the corner of his eye, he squeezed his godfather's hand and continued.

    "As to your last concern... My greatest fear is that Voldemort will discover the depth of our connection and try to posses me and use me against you. Believe me, I would know if he found out, and he hasn't yet. But if he does before I can properly shield my mind from his, I'm positive that you'll be able to tell when he takes control of my body, and if that happens, I want someone to stun me and paralyze me until I am in control again. I don't think that will happen, but just in case... What I will promise you is that if I am able, I will warn you in some way or leave the room if he's about to break through. If I'm able, I'll blind myself before he can see you with my eyes, deafen myself before he can hear your voices, and cut out my tongue before he can curse you with my voice."

    At this, Sirius, Mrs. Weasley, and Tonks stood simultaneously and rushed around the table to embrace him, causing him to yelp in surprise. He stiffened and tried to push back memories of his uncle while he endured their embrace for a short while. This only made them cry more.

    "You g-great g-git," Tonks wailed. "Why does everyt-thing happen to you, huh?"

    "Oh, Harry, y-you're to y-young to p-promise things like that!" cried Mrs. Weasley. Harry cautiously lifted a hand and patted them awkwardly on the head. He sent a half-glare, half-bewildered look at Professor Lupin, who just smiled.

    "Er... It's ok, don't worry about it." They quickly broke up after that and Dumbledore brought the attention back to himself with the slightest of twinkles in his eye and a proud nod of the head.

    "Thank you for the report and subsequent speech, my boy. Would you like to add anything?" Harry nodded his head.

    "Just a few thoughts, sir. I can only think of a few reasons that Voldemort would want to take Margaret's body from her house. It's possible that he just wants to cause wide-spread panic when the body is discovered in a public area, or he could be sending a message to Light wizards and wavering Dark wizards as well. Most likely, I think he wants to create a distraction for you and for Aurors so that he can draw you out and buy himself a bit more time to discover who you are while everyone is searching for her. For all I know, it could be all of the above; he's not very picky when it comes to murder and mayhem. Sn- _Professor_ Snape may have more information about that."

    "Very well, thank you, my boy. I must ask you to leave after Severus' report, however." Harry nodded. "Severus, is there anything you would like to add?"

    "For once in his life, the boy is correct, Headmaster," Snape replied in his snide voice. He watched as Harry stood shakily and shuffled over to the teapot next to the stove that was charmed to stay warm. Harry poured himself a cup and cursed quietly when his hands shook so badly that the tea sloshed over the rim. "The Dark Lord rarely asks me to go on raids or participate in 'Sport', as he knows I am best used in the dungeons brewing potions. I had heard about an attack, but the Dark Lord never gave specifics; it seems as though he wants to keep information about the Order as close to himself as he can. Potter was also correct on the assumption about the attack on his home; a group of newly-initiated Death Eaters thought it would be a good idea to get rid of him and since the Dark Lord complains about the boy often enough, they assumed they would be rewarded. They were cursed quite lengthily when they returned."

    Harry was sipping at the hot drink while staring absently at the steam rising from the teapot, heedless of the heat as he listened. His body continued to tremble and shake. Snape's eyes narrowed thoughtfully in recognition. "Nothing else seems to be new; he is only having me brew the usual potions, and my position within the ranks seems to be secure... Potter!" He snapped suddenly and Harry jumped, his head snapping up to see Snape watching him with a penetrating gaze.

    "Wh-what?"

    "Why haven't you been given a post-Cruciatus potion yet?" Snape asked in a deceptively silky tone, a hard edge coloring his voice. There was a sharp intake of breath around the room and heads swiveled to fix on the Boy Who Lived, who blushed while holding a mug in a trembling hand. "Er, I- um..."

    Snape stood and swept swiftly to Harry's side, pulling a small vial of milky white liquid from his robes and uncorking it, handing it to the boy. Harry held it up, eying it distrustfully, and Snape rolled his eyes.

    "Oh stop being so paranoid, Potter. If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't do it right in front of the most powerful wizard in the world and a roomful of people. It's just a post-Cruciatus potion." Harry flushed and quickly downed the potion in one gulp. He sighed in relief as he stopped shaking.

    "Thank you," he said quietly, but gratefully. There was still a fine trembling in his limbs, but he doubted that was from Cruciatus. Snape nodded shortly and returned to his seat with a rather bored expression on his face.

    "Harry, you know that your connection with Voldemort forces you to experience his curses as if they were cast directly on you," Dumbledore chided gently, ignoring the gasp that followed his words. "Going too long without treating the multiple curses you have received could result in permanent nerve damage if you're not careful. I'll have Poppy come by tomorrow and give you a complete check-up."

    Harry blanched. A check-up? He couldn't let anyone find out about what his uncle had done! "What? No! Professor-"

    "Harry, I must insist. You have obviously not had an easy summer since the Tri-Wizard Tournament and I cannot call myself Headmaster of Hogwarts if I let you continue in this unhealthy manner. Now, I believe you need to return to your bed and try to get some rest. I doubt there will be any more Death Eater activity tonight."  
    Harry resisted the urge to growl in frustration, gritting his teeth instead and nodding curtly before turning and striding from the room in a way that would have made Snape jealous had he been watching instead of doodling on a piece of parchment.  
  
    Harry considered ignoring the Headmaster's suggestion, but the truth was that he _was_ quite tired and didn't feel like dealing with anybody's pity at the moment, so he retreated to his bedroom and tried to study. A half an hour later, he was out like a light. He woke to the comforting feeling of a hand running through his hair and he sighed happily before burrowing deeper into his pillow. He heard a brief rumble of laughter above him and slowly opened his eyes to see Sirius perched on the edge of his bed with Professor Lupin, who was watching him with a small smile.

    "S-rus?" Harry mumbled, sitting up a bit and rubbing a hand across his face. The stretched collar of the clothes he had been wearing since yesterday slipped down his thin shoulder, revealing a deep purple bruise in the shape of thick, meaty fingers, but he quickly pulled it back up before they could see it properly. Harry pulled the comforter up to his neck and laid back. "What time is it?" He asked. Sirius and Remus exchanged a look.

    "It's past 1:30 in the afternoon, cub," Sirius said, grinning. Harry shot up, eyes wide with surprise.

    " _What?_ Why in the name of Merlin did you let me sleep for so long?" he asked, throwing off the covers and disappearing into the bathroom as quickly as he could. "I'm not coming down for lunch until I shower and I'm actually awake!" The two Marauders looked at each other with a small smile, but it was quickly replaced with a solemn expression.  
    "He avoided that talk about the visions pretty well," Sirius joked, but then a frown came over his face. "Did you see...?" Remus nodded, a worried frown crossing his face as well, and he reached over to grasp the animagus' hand.

    "Yes, but let's see what Tonks and Kingsley came up with before flying off the handle. Maybe there's a logical explanation." Sirius' hands clenched and he growled softly.  
    "There better be, or so help me, I'll tear their throats out for touching my godson!"

    "Calm down, Sirius," Remus said sharply, though a rather feral look came into his amber eyes. "Even if Tonks didn't find anything, Madame Pomfrey will be here in an hour; we'll have her check him then."

    Harry sighed as he let the shower's warm water slide down his aching body. He knew that he wouldn't be able to keep up appearances much longer, especially with Madame Pomfrey coming to give him a check-up today. His only hope was to somehow get to his wand and look up some healing or glamour charms at least to keep his secrets safe. It didn't seem likely, however. Why couldn't he just trust them, anyway? They were his friends after all... it's not like they would abandon him at the first sign of weakness. Despite knowing that in his mind, Harry couldn't help but fear the possibility that he would be left all alone in the future, and it would be all his fault.

    Twenty minutes later, he was dressed back in his baggy hand-me-downs (which were becoming quite filthy by now) and heading cautiously, resignedly down the stairs to the kitchen. He entered the kitchen and was not surprised to see only Sirius, Professor Lupin, Shacklebolt, and Tonks seated around the table, staring silently at their less-than-full plates.

    "The Weasley's have gone home, then?" Harry said innocently, summoning up a small smile. "Who cooked today?"

    "I did," Shacklebolt rumbled. "Remus is rubbish in the kitchen, Tonks can't walk through an empty room without tripping over something, and Sirius can be just as bad. I'm just a cheap bachelor, but at least I can make a salad without burning it." Harry chuckled, pulling up a chair next to Sirius.

    "I'll cook the meals then. It wouldn't do for the Boy Who Lived to be rescued from a Death Eater attack only to die a week later from food poisoning." Shacklebolt guffawed while the other occupants of the table looked affronted. The lunch passed relatively quickly, though there seemed to be an undercurrent of tense emotions that Harry tried to ignore, as well as the glances everyone tended to throw at him. By the end of the meal, however, Harry was high-strung and nervous, so much so that he reverted to his old habits and automatically started clearing the table of dirty plates and filling the sink with hot, soapy water. He washed the dishes quickly and methodically, trying to ignore the stares directed at his back until he couldn't stand it anymore.

    "All right, what's going on here?" He finally exclaimed, wiping his hands off on a washrag and throwing it down on the counter. Sirius and Tonks immediately looked away in embarrassment, but Professor Lupin and Shacklebolt exchanged a tense look.

    "Harry-" Lupin began hesitantly, but at that moment the fire in the living room roared and the kitchen opened a minute later to admit a twinkling Dumbledore and an affronted Madame Pomfrey.

    "Good afternoon, everyone," the Headmaster genially, seemingly not noticing the tense atmosphere. "You sent for me, Remus?"

    "Mr. Potter!" the Mediwitch exclaimed in exasperation. "I should have known this would be about you. I see you enough during the school year, did you have a quota to fill during the summer as well? Well?"

    "Er - Madame Pomfrey, this wasn't my idea at all; I'm perfectly fine!" Harry protested.

    "That's hardly saying anything, Mr. Potter," she snorted. "You'd say that you're fine with an arrow in your arm. Then you'd go off to capture the one who shot it, no doubt." She added in a mutter as she strode to his side. "What's wrong with you then?"

    "Nothing!" He cried in a strange mixture of exasperation and panic, sidestepping her deftly and heading for the door. Before he could reach it, however, Sirius caught his wrist in a hard grasp that caused him to flinch violently and suck in a pained breath. Harry's eyes widened and he tried to pull away, but his godfather held firm.

    "What was that, then?" He asked triumphantly, catching Harry's hand and tugging down the long, baggy sleeve. The fabric draped easily to the crook of the boy's elbow, exposing the thin limb to their shocked gazes. A dark, purple bruise in the shape of a large hand encircled his lower arm and ring of chafed, scabbed skin circled his fine-boned wrist. Harry grasped the sleeve with his other hand and pulled it over his wrist, futilely tugging at the vice-like grip on his hand.

    "No- don't- Sirius, leave it alone!" Harry stammered, fear and panic and shame coursing through his body. "Leave it alone, it doesn't matter!"

    "Mr. Potter!" Madame Pomfrey said quietly but with a command in her voice that refused to be denied, "Calm down and sit in a chair." Harry obeyed unthinkingly, his head filled with a softly buzzing cotton, and he longed to retreat into himself, clasping his trembling hands together between his knees when Sirius finally released them. Things were happening too fast and everything was falling apart. He wanted to run away, but he couldn't; he had to be strong, he couldn't show any weakness.

    "Let me see your wrists, Harry," the mediwitch said gently, her voice becoming warmer as the fight went out of him. However, he didn't move.

    "N-no," he said softly, but firmly. "No, if we have to do this, I want to be in my room. Alone."

    "I'm afraid we can't do that, Harry," the Headmaster broke in, the twinkle once more absent from his eyes. He looked older than Harry had ever seen him. "Your next of kin and I must be there if this is a case of abuse, and more witnesses would be-" Harry refused to listen any longer, shutting his eyes tightly and shaking his head until he was dizzy. Hearing it said out loud was much more terrible than he'd imagined.

    "No, no, no! This isn't - this isn't abuse! It's _nothing!_ Nothing happened, I don't know why you're all making such a big deal about this! I'm not one of your bloody charity cases; I can take care of myself!" He stood up furiously, intending to bolt from the room, but the blood rushed to his head and he swayed, catching himself on the back of the chair. He felt more than saw someone reaching out to him and he stumbled back, overturning the chair and raising an arm protectively over his head.

    The silence spread across the room like a blanket, heavy with static, and the only thing that could be heard was his heavy breathing. Hesitantly, Harry opened his eyes and focused on the person beyond his arm. Seeing Sirius' shocked and hurt face, his shoulders slumped and his arm dropped. He ran a shaking hand over his face and through his hair.

    "Oh God, oh... Merlin, Sirius. I'm sorry..." he whispered, dropping his eyes in shame.

    "That's quite enough," Madame Pomfrey said briskly. "Come on, then, let's move this upstairs. Headmaster, Mr. Black, and Mr. Lupin, you too. No, no arguments. You all need each other to get through this. Go!" She ushered them out of the kitchen and up the stairs, Harry following meekly behind and avoiding everyone's gaze. When they reached his room, he hesitantly perched on the edge of the bed and stared at his hands. He didn't know what to do with himself; he wanted to yell and scream and throw things, to run to his godfather's arms and cry himself dry, and to curl up in a corner and disappear, all at the same time.

    "First thing's first, Mr. Potter," Madame Pomfrey said, gesturing Lupin to shut the door behind him. "Let's take off your shirt and catalogue your injuries. Don't leave anything out; it hardly matters now."

    Numbly, Harry stiffly pulled off the large shirt and let it drop to the floor, striving to ignore the sharp intakes of breath.

    "I'll kill them," the growl broke the shocked silence, surprisingly coming from the normally gentle Remus Lupin. Looking up in surprise, Harry could clearly see the wolf inside the docile professor struggling to avenge its cub, while Sirius just looked pale and speechless with shock. Dumbledore just conjured a chair and sat down heavily.

    "No, you won't!" Harry snapped sharply, surprising himself slightly. "They may not be the most ideal family, but they still provided me with food and clothes and shelter when they were forced to take me in. They hated me, but I'm still alive, aren't I?"

    "Perhaps in the loosest sense of the word, yes," he replied, nearly snarling in his anger and disbelief. Harry looked him in the eye, feeling a strange calm now that the moment he had feared for four years had come.

    "Professor Lupin, I'm stronger than this; I can get over it and put it behind me. I've dealt with it my whole life and I've learned to look past the insults; if I held a grudge for every little thing people have done to hurt me, I would have turned Dark long ago. If nothing else, the Dursley's taught me to have a thick skin when it came to personal attacks; it's just attacks to or from those I love that hurt me. I'd like to think that I can get through this, and I hope that you can, too. I still need you all... and I can't have you if you're in Azkaban." He tried to crack a smile, but failed miserably, so he just turned his attention back to the nurse.

    "Madame Pomfrey-"

    "Come now, Mr. Potter, I see you more often than my own family and other students combined; surely we've progressed to a first-name basis by now? Visits outside of the school year certainly seem to warrant another step in our relationship." Harry paused and smiled, uncertain but genuine. Madame Pomfrey was pleased that he had managed to pull himself out of his stupor, though she suspected that it was just an automatic reaction to reassure the people around him, and she felt indescribably proud of his words. Through his years and countless visits to her Infirmary, she had gotten to know Harry Potter rather well, and she felt more distressed than she liked to admit that she had missed all the signs before.

    "Er... Poppy," he said hesitantly. "What next?"

    "First of all, we must get the camera and Scribe-Quill ready." She held up a hand to halt his furious protests. "They are just in case you want to press charges, Harry, but in cases of abuse it is required by wizarding law to have pictures and a transcript of our meeting. My camera will hover in the air and rotate around me as I work and takes pictures at intervals. Try to ignore it as much as possible.

    "Next, we need to take off those rags." With a wave of her wand, the bloodstained towel strips vanished and his wasted form was fully revealed. Dumbledore conjured two more chairs for the Marauders to sit in before they collapsed, and Poppy struggled to retain a professional exterior, despite her earlier words. She hadn't had to deal with an abuse case in very many years as such things were not too common in the wizarding world, and that case hadn't been nearly as bad as this. _Where do I start?_ She despaired silently, drawing in a deep breath.

    "Mr. Potter, when was the last time you ate a full meal?" She asked levelly.

    "An hour ago," he answered automatically. At her glare, he added with a weak smirk, "and yesterday's dinner."

    "Before you arrived here, when was the last time that you ate a full meal?" She sighed, but smiled very faintly.

    "At Hogwarts, the leaving feast." Was his prompt answer, and she gaped in shock before gathering herself together shakily.

    "And what did you eat in the following three weeks?"

    "Scraps; half-eaten, stale food. About the equivalent of three whole meals," he replied dully. Sirius, who hadn't said a word since leaving the kitchen, covered his eyes with one hand.

    "How did you get these injuries, Harry?" She asked finally, quietly.

    "I'm not going to talk about that!" He replied fiercely, just as quiet. She immediately yielded.

    "Fair enough, don't tell me. Just tell me where it hurts. That is my job, after all."

    "Everywhere. Inside and out," he whispered. Everyone knew that he was referring to more than his body. She sighed.

    "I'll just cast a diagnostic spell, then, Mr. Potter," she said briskly, raising her wand and whispering _Diagnosis!_ with a complicated motion of her wand. Instantly, a red glow enveloped Harry and a parchment appeared in the air in front of the mediwitch, gold lettering quickly scratching out words down its length. After several long moments, the glow faded and she snatched the parchment out of the air.

    "Severe mal- and under-nourishment; severe exhaustion due to lack of sleep; high levels of stress; heavy semi-permanent nerve damage due to prolonged and repeated exposure to the Cruciatus and other Dark curses; severe imbalance of chemical, metabolic, and digestive processes in the body due to sudden and forced weight loss. These are just the long-term effects of the summer; the longest and hardest to heal, requiring extensive recovery programs affecting his diet and sleep patterns. Next is the injuries.

    "Extensive, deep, and permanent scarring throughout the entire body that cannot be healed; a concussion; deep bruising to the neck; torn vocal chords with superficial scarring due to prolonged screaming; fractured collarbone; dislocated shoulder, forcefully popped back in place; fractures in the wrists and superficial lacerations due to metal restraints of some kind; deep bruising to the wrists and upper arms; two cracked ribs, one broken rib; deep bruising to the chest, abdomen, and back; bruised internal organs; severe lacerations and welts on the back; deeply bruised left kneecap; several moderately torn muscles throughout the body; and finally, sprained right ankle. No signs of sexual abuse."

    A heavy silence filled the room when she finished and Harry, unable to look anyone in the face, looked down and wrapped his thin arms around his jutting ribs.

    "Merlin, Harry..." Sirius croaked, speaking for the first time in a very long time. "How could we not notice...? How were you able to act so normally with all of that pain?"

    Harry didn't respond, and silence filled the room once more. Poppy silently handed him a small vial of pink liquid.

    "A Pain-Relieving potion," she responded to his questioning glance, "so you won't be in as much pain when I cast the bone-healing spell." He nodded and downed the potion in one gulp before she cast the spell and he felt a few of his bones shift and meld together; a thoroughly strange and uncomfortable feeling. Next, she opened a black bag that he hadn't noticed before; it must have been magically expanded on the inside, because she stuck her arm in up to her shoulder and removed a thick jar of salve for his bruises and torn muscles. She instructed him to remove his trousers and he did so, blushing lightly as he sat in his boxers.

    The mediwitch instructed him to lie down and he did so gingerly, hoping he didn't get blood on the silk sheets. Over the next several minutes, she rubbed the warm, slightly tingling salve over the hand-shaped bruises around his neck and arms and over the grapefruit sized bruises on his chest and knee. While she gently worked the salve in, massaging his muscles as she went, she talked absently about the steps that needed to be taken to ensure as quick a recovery as possible. Knowing the instructions would be overly thorough and intricate, Harry allowed himself to relax under her ministrations and let his attention slip in and out. He did hear that the bruises would heal completely within the next few days, however, and felt grateful for that. Magic really was a wonderful thing. By the time she asked him to turn onto his stomach, he was so warm and comfortable that he did so without question.

    Only her gasp of horror and the stunned silence before both Sirius and Lupin cried out in fury alerted him to the mistake. They hadn't seen his back before and he hadn't wanted his godfather or the Headmaster to see it at all if he could have helped it. But now it was too late. Harry stiffened and tried to sit up, but a firm pressure on his shoulders prevented him from moving without a great deal of pain.

    "It's alright, Harry," Poppy said soothingly, the faintest of tremors in her tone. "It was just a surprise. We knew about the cuts already." That wasn't very reassuring to Harry, but he laid back down, sliding his arms beneath the pillow he was resting on and pressing his face into it. He wished he could block out the horrible silence that invaded the room; the furious rantings from his godfather, the silent rages of the wolf inside Lupin, the faintly horrified silence from Poppy, and the guilt practically oozing from everyone in the room. He wanted to curl up and die of shame and embarrassment.

    Poppy continued to rub the salve into the bruises and muscles of his back, but Harry couldn't relax any longer. He knew what was coming after the welts and blood off his back were cleared away. Finally, Poppy moved away, back to her black bag, and removed another healing salve, this one more like a lotion.

    "This will help heal the welts and the tender skin after I cast the spell to heal the cuts on your back." She explained before casting the spell. Another uncomfortable feeling of skin knitting together swept over Harry before it was soothed away by the cool lotion she spread across his thin back. The skin on his back was slightly red and raw, but the cuts and welts were gone. "Now, all of these scars from injuries that you received before a week or two ago are too old to be healed or erased by magic. They will most likely remain with you for the rest of your life, though the thinner ones may fade with time."

    Harry nodded into the pillow. "Thank you, Mada- Poppy," he whispered. He knew his back was criss-crossed with scars new and old, some thick and long and heavily seamed with scar tissue and others thin as gossamer threads; all white and raised from his lightly-tanned back like some macabre painting.

    "Just one last thing, Harry, and I'll let you sleep while I give your godfather the instructions and potions you'll need to get better, hopefully, before school begins. _Scourgify Sangris!_ " The spell cleaned all the blood from his back and Harry closed his eyes, waiting for the reaction he knew was coming.

    "Oh-! _Harry..._ " Came the strangled cry as she caught sight of the words carved into the small of his back. Sirius and Lupin instantly stepped forward, and Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair, to see what had caused the normally level-headed witch to lose her professional cool. The unobtrusive camera clicked and they were just able to catch a glimpse of the letters W-O-R-T  M-U-R-D  F-R-E  in a pyramid in the small of his back before Harry turned over onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

    "Don't worry about it, it's ok. He was drunk; he didn't know what he was doing." A stupefied silence filled the room once more before Sirius hissed in disbelief.

    " _Didn't know what he was-_ Harry, that's no excuse for the bastard to do this to you! For him to do any of this! He knew _exactly_ what he was doing!"

    "I know, Sirius, you think I don't know that!" Harry cried, tired and frustrated. "I _know_ that, but that's my lot in life; I've got to deal with it or I'll turn into another Voldemort! I've just got to move past it and remember why I'm fighting in this war - for my friends and family, not for revenge. I can't think about it that way; I can't indulge myself in revenge. It's too dangerous, too risky. I'm sharing brains with Voldemort himself, for Merlin's sake! If I let hate consume me, he'd be onto me faster than white on rice and I'd never get any peace. Just let it go, Sirius, just drop it. You don't understand."

    After a moment of silence in which Poppy cleaned up her supplies, the mediwitch spoke briskly. "Well, it has been a long and stressful day for all of us, and I'd suggest leaving any heavy conversations to tomorrow, when everyone's had a chance to cool down and think logically. Mr. Black, Mr. Lupin, I'll leave a list of instructions, procedures, and potions along with this bag of supplies. Please study them carefully and make sure Harry follows them. I'll also leave a copy of the diagnosis sheet and the pictures for your own files as well." She turned to Harry and quickly stooped to press a kiss on his head, causing him to blush with surprise and embarrassment. "Harry, you're in good hands now; I don't expect to see you again until at least the first day of school. Please try and stay out of trouble until then, won't you?"

    "I'll try, but you know that trouble tends to find me, don't you?" He gave a small smile that quickly faded. "Oh, and M- Poppy, can you leave me with a large supply of Dreamless Sleep, post-Cruciatus, and pain- and headache-reducing potions? I have a feeling that I'll need them before the school year begins."

    Poppy looked uncertain and glanced at the thus-far silent Headmaster, who nodded gently. "I suppose... but Dreamless Sleep is highly addictive and tends to build up in your system, so only take it three times a week, with at least a day in between each dose. After all, the mind needs to dream in order to remain healthy."

    With that, the mediwitch left and the Headmaster stood, vanishing the chairs he had conjured as he did so. He came over to Harry's side and took his hand gently between his wrinkled ones. "Harry, I do not have words to express how deeply sorry and ashamed I am for leaving you with the Dursley's. Every year you tried to convince me to let you stay at Hogwarts for the summer, but I refused to listen, believing that you were safer with your family. There is so much I could have and should have done for you, but I failed to do so. I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me, for I know that I will never forgive myself."

    Harry smiled and patted the old wizard's hand with his free one. "There's nothing to forgive, Headmaster; you didn't know, and I refused to tell anyone. You did your best with the information that you had, and that's all anyone can ask." Dumbledore smiled and his eyes gained a suspicious-looking shine that looked quite different than his normal twinkle.  
    "Thank you, my boy. And please, call me Albus in private; just like with Poppy, we have been through far too much together to attempt to keep a professional distance." Harry stared, shocked.

    "Thank you, Pro- Albus," he stuttered.

    "It's the least I could do, my boy, the least I could do. Get well soon, Harry." He responded before leaving the room. Only Sirius and Lupin were left in the room and they continued to stand next to his bed, watching him protectively. Harry had a bad feeling about the way they were acting.

    "Well, I think Mada- Poppy was right," Harry said to break the silence. "I guess we have some things to talk about, but we should wait until we've digested everything. I'm pretty tired right now, so I think I'll sleep for the rest of the night..." He realized that he was rambling, and stopped. He looked at his parent's best friends closely; they looked like they had been hit by a bludger or two, repeatedly. "You know I don't blame you, don't you?" He asked quietly. "There's nothing to forgive. I - I l-love you two, and everyone else too. I couldn't survive without you all, so just try to accept that, ok?" Harry had never said those words to anyone before, nor had he received them, and they felt odd coming out of his mouth, but he knew that it was true.

    He waited anxiously for their response, and he got it first from Lupin, who bent down to hug him quickly. "Of course, cub, we're just getting used to the idea that nothing is like we believed it was and we really don't know you at all. And since the others brought up the topic, I'm going to have to insist that you call me Remus, or Moony if you'd like. I haven't been your professor for over a year, and I'll always be your friend before your professor."

    Harry felt a suspicious stinging in the back of his eyes, but quickly blinked back the feeling before tears could form. "Thanks... Moony. Repeat what I said to Sirius when he wakes up, will you?" He added with a slight grin. He pulled the covers up (an absently-cast wandless _Scourgify_ that had Remus' eyes widening got rid of any blood on the sheets) and slid beneath them in his boxers, noting that he desperately needed to get new clothes. Remus nodded dazedly and dragged Sirius from the room, bidding him a soft good night and turning out the light. Just wanting everything that had happened to just disappear, Harry curled up comfortably beneath the blankets despite the weak protests of his muscles and tried to forget that the whole day had never happened.

    He was more successful than he had imagined, because when he woke up he couldn't immediately remember why it felt like the world had been turned upside down and why his body felt so good.  
  
    The next two days passed agonizingly slowly. Harry had been confined to bed rest until the bruises and torn muscles in his body healed enough for him to move without pain, and in that time he had not seen Sirius once. He woke every morning to Remus running his hands soothingly through his hair (which, as everyone learned, was the best way to wake him in the morning and comfort him after a nightmare) and was helped to the bathroom to perform his morning routine before he was helped back to his bed and Remus had him remove his clothes so that he could rub the healing salve over his body. It was during one of these sessions that Harry got up the courage to ask what else his uncle had carved into his back with the knife.

    "I passed out after the first word," he explained. 

    He knew that Remus would tell him if he felt it was important for him to know. He wasn't too worried about asking or telling Remus these kinds of things, because he knew that the gentle man had had a lifetime of controlling his innate reactions and emotions, so he would be able to ignore the urge to tear the Dursley's apart with his bare hands. What Harry couldn't have known was that after every "session" he had with Remus, the werewolf would retreat to one of the empty rooms in the mansion and cast a silencing charm before releasing his incredible rage on the furniture and walls of the room.

     Remus' hands had paused while working the salve into shoulders before the steady, hypnotizing motion began again. "It says 'worthless murdering freak'," he replied in an even tone, only a trace of a growl present in his voice.

    "Uncle Vernon's favorite insults," Harry murmured, pressing his face into the pillow and sighing. "It hardly matters anymore; the words don't mean anything coming from him after so long. I just needed to know."

    These little conversations were as far as Harry ever went to talking about the abuse, and Sirius probably heard it all second-hand from Remus. It hurt Harry more than he liked to admit that his godfather refused to see him, but Remus had tried to explain that the animagus felt too guilty for not noticing Harry's pain and that he didn't think that he would be able to control himself if he saw the scars and bruises that the Dursley's had left. Harry tried to accept this answer.

    Another day, Harry asked how they had suspected the abuse and how they had known to call the Headmaster to witness it.

    "You were good, Harry, but not good enough to fool those who love you," was his response. "What clinched it was Tonks' and Kingsley's visit to your room. The locks on your bedroom door, the blood on the floor, the bloody shirts shoved into the closet... didn't you think they'd notice?" Harry flushed, squeezing the pillow beneath his head with his thin arms.

    "I forgot about the blood on the floor," he admitted. "But I had an excuse for the locks, and I didn't expect them to look through my closet."

    "Well, it was certainly enough to scare them out of their minds. Kingsley had to put the Leg-Locker curse on Tonks to keep her from charging off to find the bas- your _family_." Harry chuckled weakly.

    "Well, she seems to have shopped that out of her system," he joked. It was true. Only an hour after Poppy had ushered everyone to Harry's room to heal him, Tonks had gone on a rather frightening shopping spree. She had bought him a completely new wardrobe (including boxers, much to his embarrassment) and had informed him that she had burned all of Dudley's old cast-offs. When she had visited him, as clumsy and outgoing as ever, she had showed the outfits to him and insisted that he dress in the pajamas she had bought him, since he had nothing else to wear in bed. She had a surprisingly good fashion sense despite her neon-colored hair and Harry was pleased with his new clothes. He was indescribably grateful that she didn't change her attitude toward him except to vow that if she saw the Dursley's ever again, she would not be responsible for her actions.

    She, Kingsley, and Remus were constants in the days following the healing; keeping him from becoming too bored by telling him about Auror training and their days in Hogwarts. When they weren't there, Harry spent his time sleeping or studying from his textbooks or thinking about Sirius. He wanted to have his godfather back, and he worried that Sirius wouldn't want to associate with him now that he knew how broken he was. In fact, it wasn't until the night of the second day, when Harry had his next vision, that Sirius finally came back to himself and returned to his godson's side.

    This was the night that they discovered that Dreamless Sleep did not block his visions, and it was the night that many of the Order discovered just how the visions affected the Boy-Who Lived.

    The night was broken by a piercing scream of pain that had everyone, including visiting Order members, scrambling out of their rooms and running to the room on the third floor. Remus and Sirius were first to arrive, rushing to both sides of Harry's bed and gripping each of the hands that strained to claw at his forehead as the rest of his body writhed and kicked in pain. Kingsley, clad only in pajama bottoms, and Tonks, dressed in short shorts and a tank top, were next to arrive and were quickly followed by a fully-dressed Moody and an impassive Snape in black robes. Last to arrive were Sturgis Podmore,  Elphias Doge, and Emmeline Vance, all in various states of undress.

    "Somebody hold him!" Remus shouted when he saw them crowded in the doorway, staring. It took four people to hold down Harry's flailing limbs and silent tears made tracks down Tonks' face as she tried to hold his head still. Snape cast a silencing charm on the boy before his voice died out. Impossibly long minutes passed as Harry's body shuddered and tensed in the throes of his vision, and his screams were halted only by periods of tense silence, when moments of dialogue appeared to occur. Sirius had snapped at Elphias, the man who had suggested that the visions were false, to contact Dumbledore and the man had quickly stumbled from the room, pale as death. The only sounds that filled the room were heavy breathing and the occasional cry of "Hold his leg!" and "Here comes another one - hold him!" and "Another Crucio. Merlin, Harry..."

    "You might as well conjure some ropes to tie the boy down," was Snape's helpful suggestion, "I wasn't called to a meeting, so it must be Sport or a punishment, and those go on the longest. With the Dreamless Sleep in his system, he won't be able to wake himself up before it's over. Foolish boy." He then swept from the room, but no one moved to conjure the restraints. Dumbledore arrived not long afterwards and settled himself at Harry's side as well to await his awakening. They waited.

    Finally, nearly an hour after the vision began, Harry's struggles ceased and his brilliant green eyes snapped open. When he saw the group of people surrounding his bed, his eyes widened and his mouth opened in a soundless cry of surprise and fear. The people in the room were blasted from the bed by a massive surge of magic that manifested itself in a translucent, fiery gold shield that expanded around Harry, who then curled up on the bed. The Order members, most of which had been slammed into the walls or furniture, groaned as they recovered and stood once more, only to gape at the magnificent display of pure wandless and powerful magic. When they reached out to touch the shield, they were able to press their hands against it and could not move past it.

    Dumbledore, who was the only one who had been quick enough to cast a shield, had still been pushed outside of the radius of the bubble and he stood still, contemplating the possible repercussions of the situation.

    "Harry!" Remus and Sirius were calling out to the boy on the bed, pacing worriedly beyond the shield, and eventually the Boy-Who-Lived gradually relaxed at the sound of their voices. With their coaxing, he opened his eyes once more and saw several members of the Order as well as his godfather and Remus through the soft, gauzy appearance of his shield. Instantly, the shield disappeared and he flushed a bit in embarrassment. When he caught sight of the Headmaster, however, all color drained from his face and he opened his mouth in a silent sentence, causing him to frown and touch a hand to his slender throat.

    " _Finite Incantum,_ " Dumbledore cast, waving his wand in Harry's direction, and Harry cleared his throat with a wince.

    "Profess- Albus..." he corrected himself, his voice a weak and hoarse croak. “Ugh, I'm never taking Dreamless Sleep again. It kept me from waking up; most of the time outside... influence," he winced when he remembered Uncle Vernon's way of waking him up, "will wake me up, but I couldn't this time."

    "How are you, my boy?" Dumbledore asked gently, the twinkle absent from his eye as he took Harry's hand in his own. Harry lifted his other hand and wiped the blood from his scar with a trembling hand before it could get into his eyes. Tonks looked down at her own hands in horror, finally noticing that she had blood all over them, and cast a shaky _Scourgify._

    "I'm..." he winced as Remus, who had come to stand by his shoulder, squeezed his shoulder tightly. “...hurting, but that doesn't matter." He waved his own health aside and turned urgent eyes onto the Headmaster. "Voldemort's angry, but pleased as well. Avery, Malfoy, and Wormtail had each been given a mission to accomplish before tonight and all but Wormtail failed; probably because even a monkey could steal a book from an old house."

    This caused the Headmaster to lean forward urgently. "What was that? What were the missions they were to accomplish, Harry?" The Boy-Who Lived furrowed his brow and his eyes became distant, remembering. He then spoke in a flat, chilling voice that caused shivers to crawl across the skin of the occupants of the room. So soon after the vision, the memory was fresh in Harry's mind and he recalled the exact words easily in the form of a cool hiss vaguely reminiscent of Voldemort's voice.

    "Ah, Luciuss... How difficult was the task I set for you? Surely it isn't too difficult to locate one of the many mountain dragon-reserves in the world and _persuade_ someone to lead you to the lizard? Surely it wasn't too _hard_ for your magnificent mind to devise a way to steal an _egg_ , was it? _Cr-_ " Harry cut himself off before he could speak the curse, shaking his head and blinking rapidly. He cleared his throat again, gratefully accepting the healing potions that Sirius handed him and downing them one after another until he felt relatively normal. He continued, drawing the Headmaster from his thoughtful silence. "Sorry, I don't usually do that in front of people. Malfoy tried to explain that the dragon-reserves in the mountains were heavily guarded, but Voldemort wouldn't listen. From his surface thoughts, I gathered that Voldemort wanted the egg from a certain dragon that only lives on top of mountains for some sort of... potion, or ritual. It could only be stolen at a certain time of year, though." A confused look crossed his face. "That doesn't make any sense, does it?"

    Dumbledore patted his hand gently, a triumphant gleam in his eye. "Ah, but it makes perfect sense. Don't worry, my boy, it doesn't matter now. Now, Avery, I believe?"

    Harry nodded. "Avery was supposed to follow someone to a meeting or place, but he lost the person before he could find out what he was supposed to. Voldemort didn't talk to him very much. He saw Wormtail last and was the most pleased with him. The rat was supposed to sneak into an old, abandoned house and steal a book; a potions book that was supposedly heavily protected by spells and wards. There was... something that protected Wormtail from the traps, but I can't remember..." he struggled for a moment, his face screwing up in concentration. The silky, dangerous hiss came from his mouth once more.

    "Wormtail, I see that you have returned with the book. I am most pleased. The wards of the old traitor's home could not hope... to stand... up to my... un-" Harry broke off with a grunt of frustration, shaking his head once more. "No, I can't get anything else, sorry. All I could gather was that the book belonged to a Light wizard; it was a book of Light potions. One of its kind."

    Dumbledore looked thoughtful and patted his hand again absently. "Thank you, dear boy. Once again, I'm sorry that you must suffer this way."

    Harry inclined his head in acknowledgment. "It's alright, Professor." Dumbledore smiled again and told him to get well before leaving. Most of the other Order members left soon afterwards, Kingsley and Moody exchanging a calculating look as they glanced at the boy on the bed with something akin to respect.

    Finally, it was just Sirius and Remus left grasping Harry's hands as he lay back on the pillows. He squeezed their hands. "It's good to see you again, Sirius," he whispered, catching his godfather's eyes.

    "Oh, Harry..." he croaked, running his hand through the boy's wild raven-black hair. "I'm sorry. I've been such a prat; I was so angry at the Dursley's that I wasn't even there to help you when you needed it. The bastards are hurting you through me even when they're not here."

    "Don't worry, Sirius, I understand," Harry hastened to reassure the animagus, feeling his eyelids droop as exhaustion swept over him. "Just don't do it again. I missed you." He thought he heard Sirius say something in reply, but he fell asleep before it could register in his mind.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a birthday, and a phoenix.

    The weeks leading up to Harry's birthday passed relatively quickly. At Sirius and Remus' insistence, he stayed in bed the entire day after the vision before he was finally allowed to dress in normal clothes and move about the house on his own. He was still relatively weak, but after nearly a week with nothing to do but sleep and eat, he felt almost like he had at the end of term at Hogwarts, as well as itching to get up and be useful. He spent the days with Sirius the most, since Tonks, Shacklebolt, and Remus had jobs and missions to do for the Order, but the animagus and his godson kept themselves busy clearing the house of Dark objects and creatures.

    They worked slowly but thoroughly through the rooms on the ground floor and up to the other floors until most of the rooms were clean and gleaming, though the dark, dreary decorations needed to be replaced. Sirius didn't allow him to work too hard, however, and Harry often found himself in bed after dinner, studying or sleeping. Reading through the last four years of textbooks turned out to be one of the best decisions of Harry's summer; understanding the theory behind magic helped him learn new spells faster and relearn old ones even better, and he practiced in his room almost as often as he spent time with Sirius and Remus.

    The werewolf and convict had yet to get Harry to open up to them about the abuse, other than the short-but-revealing conversations Remus was able to get out of him, but they quickly learned what reminded Harry of his relatives and what things triggered flashbacks. When Harry worried or felt nervous or ashamed, he often reverted to his old habits of cleaning and cooking, as well as becoming more jumpy and flinching more than often. He also tended to apologize profusely for things that weren't his fault. While he was slowly becoming acclimated to the loose and friendly atmosphere, sudden movements and loud noises still caused him to flinch, and he did not accept friendly touches like hugs or an arm about the shoulder well, either.

    Once, when Sirius had become particularly frustrated with being forced to remain inside his home, he and Remus had gotten into a row in the kitchen that had quickly escalated into shouts and wild gesticulations. Harry had just opened the door to see what the ruckus was about when Sirius had thrown a cup into the wall in anger and Remus had jumped forward to restrain him forcefully. Harry had frozen, eyes wide in shock as a sudden rush of memories overwhelmed him, and he had shut his eyes tightly, bringing his clenched fists up to his ears in a futile attempt to shut out the angry shouts.

    Tonks had found him in this position when she had entered the house and heard the noise coming from the kitchen. Drawing closer to him, she heard him whispering "No, no, no, no, no," to himself, over and over again, heedless of her voice as she tried to call his attention to her. She touched his arm hesitantly, but this just caused him to flinch away violently.

    "No, no, no!" He cried in a hoarse voice that instantly brought Sirius and Remus' attention to the doorway. "Stop it, stop it! Stop, Uncle Vernon!" Harry dropped to his knees, cradling his head in his hands as he whimpered to himself. The room fell silent.

    "Dammit, you guys, what do you think you were doing? Arguing like that where Harry can hear you!" Tonks cried angrily, hovering around Harry's form. The two men had just stood in shock, shame and worry cycling through their expressions. It had taken some time to get Harry to retreat out of his memories, and when he had they had both apologized repeatedly. Harry had just waved them off, feeling incredibly embarrassed by his reaction. The flashbacks were sudden and humiliating for Harry, since they were triggered by unexpected things that caused him to revert to the beaten, submissive teen he had been forced to become in the Dursley home.

    Other than that, Harry's only setbacks had been the visions, and he continued to slowly but surely return to the confidant teenager he had been at the end of his fourth year. Under his new 'family's' watchful eye, he began to fill out and lose the dark circles under his eyes. His eyes grew brighter and more alive, and though he would always be slender and short (he currently topped out at a modest 5'6"), he knew that this could be an advantage in a fight. He would always be underestimated and quick and agile on his feet, making him a particularly hard opponent, even without his considerable skills in defensive spellwork.

    Apparently, Moody and Shacklebolt had noticed these traits as well, for only two weeks after the first vision they witnessed, they approached Harry with the offer to learn to fight. Harry had been extremely surprised, but very pleased and eagerly accepted their tutelage. Sirius, who was quickly turning out to be even more of a worrier than Molly Weasley, wasn't so sure, but a quick firecall to Poppy had gotten her approval, though she warned the Aurors to take it slowly at first.

    His first lesson with the Aurors did not go well. They had explained what they wanted to teach him (physical stealth, endurance, and flexibility from Shacklebolt and magical strength, cunning, and paranoia from Moody; though he didn't say so outright) and had engaged in mock battles with him to get a feeling of his skills. His first battle, a magical duel with Moody, actually didn't go too badly, considering who he was going against. He used Moody's ungainly body against him as he dashed and dodged attacks, giving it as good as he got. He only managed to get in one good hit before Moody caught him with a tripping hex and he was tied up and stupefied before he even realized what had happened. His physical trial against Shacklebolt was pathetically poor; the muscled black man towered over him and he was also quick, which meant that weaker, skinny Harry had been caught in a tight headlock within a minute.

    They had assured him that he had done just about as well as they had expected and that, with the exercises they had in mind, he would be improving in leaps and bounds in no time. These "exercises" had turned out to include endurance runs around a magically-expanded training room, weight training, and sessions specifically geared toward improving hand-eye coordination, speed, aim, and balance. The Quidditch muscles that had deteriorated over the summer came back quickly enough and then began to ache as they were pushed even further than the sport required them to. Slowly, but surely, he began to improve.   
     
    The day before his birthday, Harry was standing at the stove in a blue button-down over a white undershirt and a pair of loose jeans that pooled around his bare feet, easily rolling a pan of stir-fry over the flame on the stove while checking the rice pot on the counter. Tonks had encouraged him to roll up the sleeves of the shirt and the scars circling his wrists where barely visible to Sirius, who was sitting at the kitchen table, drooling in anticipation of the delicious meal. True to his word, and despite Sirius' distressed protests, Harry did begin cooking the meals for the occupants of Grimmauld Place, and meal times in the mansion often became busier as a result. After a decade of cooking for the Dursley's, Harry's cooking skills were almost as good as Mrs. Weasley's, and those visiting the House of Black during a meal reaped the full benefits of his skills, much to the Order's guilty pleasure.

    Harry didn't mind in the least; it felt good to know that something useful had come out of his years with the Dursley's and he was eager to prove his worth to his new friends. An internal timer went off in Harry's head as he watched the stir-fry cook and he quickly turned off the stove before expertly pouring the hot mixture into a dish and carrying it and the rice to the table. Just as he was setting them down on the table, Remus entered the room and Sirius' drooling over the food became a leer as his eyes raked the werewolf's form. Harry chuckled inwardly, wondering how he should spring the fact that he knew about the couple.

    "Sirius, stop drooling over Remus and serve yourself some food," Harry said sternly. "You can shag him later; I want to eat while the food's hot."

    Sirius tumbled off his chair with an undignified squeak and Remus froze on his way to sit at the table. At his shocked and embarrassed expression, Harry laughed, a light blush spreading over his cheeks even as his green eyes sparkled with mirth and mischief. "Oh come on, how dense do you think I am? After being friends with Ron and Hermione for four years, I can sense sexual tension in a heartbeat. How long have you two been together?"

    " _What?_ " Remus yelped, staring at Harry as if he had grown two heads. Harry rolled his eyes impatiently.

    "How long have you been shagging?" He asked, enunciating each word slowly as if speaking to a child. Sirius peeked his head over the edge of the table.

    "Harry, are you sure you're ok with... us?" He asked cautiously.

    "Don't worry about it, Sirius; it was a bit of a surprise at first, but I've gotten used to it. It's like having two godfathers - a real family!" He grinned, excited at the prospect. Remus was slowly relaxing and he sank into the chair next to his lover with a small smile.

    "Of course, Harry, we're all part of your family; maybe not by blood, but in the way that matters most." Sirius finally regained his composure and sent a grin at Harry.

    "Well, I'm not going to be the woman in this messed-up family," he declared. "That's your job, right Remy?" He added with a roguish wink at the gentle werewolf, who blushed.Harry turned as red as Ron's hair and looked a little green.

    "Sirius, shut up and eat your food," Remus commanded, and Sirius did so with gusto. "You alright there, Harry?" The Boy-Who-Lived nodded and smiled at his uncertainty. Remus cleared his throat.

    "Well, Sirius and I were together before your parents died," he explained, serving himself some food while he talked, "but after Sirius went to Azkaban for all those murders, I was heartbroken; I thought I had known him so well... When I found out that he was innocent, I still wasn't sure if I could trust him, but as we got closer to you and, as a result, closer to each other, we found that nothing much had changed between us. You helped bring us together again, Harry, and we couldn't be more grateful." Sirius swallowed and nodded as well with a solemn expression before a mischievous look came into his eye.

    "And as to your question, we've been shagging for over three months now," he said cheekily. Harry blanched and Remus smacked his lover upside the head.

    "You-!" He huffed in exasperation before changing the subject quickly. "So, Harry, you're turning fifteen tomorrow, aren't you?" Harry took to the change gratefully and thought for a moment before looking up in surprise.

    "Er... I guess I am. I completely forgot about it." He paused for a moment before asking hesitantly, "D'you think that Hermione and Ron could come over?" Remus shook his head with a sad little smile.

    "No, I don't think so, Harry; it may be too dangerous. I'll ask Dumbledore, though."

    Harry shook his head. "No, that's alright, Moony, I'm not sure what I'll say to them. A lot has happened since school ended, and I can't tell them about Voldemort or the Dursley's. What if they ask why I've changed?"

    "You could tell them the truth," Sirius suggested plainly. Harry sent him a glare.

    "I'm _not_ going to tell them about the Dursley's. What will they think of me then? I don't want anyone's pity! Maybe I could tell them about Voldemort, but what if they get scared; afraid that Voldemort will come bursting out of my head or something every time I get mad?"

    "Harry, they're not going to think _any_ of those things!" Remus chided gently. "They've been your friends for four years now; they've known you longer than we have and we haven't given up on you yet. I know Ron and Hermione well enough to know that they would probably hex you for just suggesting that they stop being friends with you." 

    Harry sighed and smiled a little. "You're probably right. Either way, it would be nice to see them again." The rest of the meal passed with Harry listening quietly to Remus and Sirius talking about current events and plans for the rest of the summer. When the meal was finished, Harry automatically got up and started gathering plates, contemplating what he would say in his next letter to his friends. With Hedwig and all of his belongings back with him, he had been able to write letters and have them sent to Ron through various Order members and Ron would forward Hermione's letters to her.

    They had been delighted to hear from him and were relieved that he didn't seem too upset over Cedric's death any more. He told them that he was staying with "Snuffles" in a safe location, but didn't go into details about the summer. He just said that it had been bad at first, but it was much better now. Harry was drawn from his thoughts by nearly bumping into Remus on his way to the sink. Stepping back with dirty plates in hand, he sent the werewolf a questioning look, to which Remus replied with a roll of the eyes, taking the plates from him.

    "Harry, we talked about this; we do most of the manual labor with magic. You're not a house elf here, you don't have to do everything by hand." Harry rolled his own eyes, looking affronted.

    "I've told you before, Remus, that cooking was one of the best parts of the day when I was at the Dursley's. Without them hanging around, it's pretty relaxing for me now; I like doing things by hand." He took the plates back from him, deftly side-stepping the frustrated werewolf and putting them into the hot water. "Don't you ever get tired of using magic for every little thing? Doesn't it give you satisfaction to know you've done something by yourself for once?"

    Sirius crept up behind Remus and wrapped his arms around the man's waist, pulling him back against his body. "Well, I don't know about cooking and cleaning, but I get my satisfaction a different way," he leered. Harry stared in consternation before breaking up into laughter.

    "Merlin, how did you ever survive when you had to act like you weren't attracted to Moony?" Sirius seemed to be on the verge of voicing a very descriptive and mortifying comment, so he quickly intervened. "Er, never mind, don't answer that."

    The rest of the day passed in relative comfort with studying and talking some more on Harry's part, but he had a little scare when he was introduced to Moody and Shacklebolt's new training technique, which included surprise attacks within the house and using various inanimate objects in defensive or offensive positions. Since they often used such creative techniques as animating the inanimate, conjuring items, or transfiguring them, Harry was very glad that he at least knew the Summoning Charm. After the first attack, he went to his room and thoroughly studied his latest Transfiguration and Charms textbooks.

    That night, Harry continued his little tradition of staying up until midnight, thinking of past birthdays, before he slid beneath the silk sheets of his bed and whispered to himself, "Happy birthday, Harry."

* * *

 

    _"Happy birthday, Harry!"_

_Memories flitted through his mind, recalling disjointed images of birthdays in his past. A tiny boy crouched in the darkness of a spider-infested cupboard, reaching beneath his cot and pulling out a sweet that he had stashed there weeks before. "Happy Birthday to me," he whispered as he unwrapped the precious gift and ate it happily._

_"Here's your present, boy!" A large, beefy man with a red face shoved a small box to a slightly older child, who beamed before carefully unwrapping the paper. His aunt would yell at him for making a mess if he wasn't careful. Opening the box eagerly, his face fell when he recognized an empty soup can that he had opened for lunch the day before. His uncle and cousin roared with laughter while his aunt tittered in amusement._

_Birthday after birthday passed before his mind eye, each slightly worse than the last, until he reached the years after he was accepted to Hogwarts._

* * *

  
    Harry woke the next morning to hands running through his hair comfortingly and a soothing voice speaking to him. He burrowed further into his pillow, sighing contentedly.  
    "Harry? You awake, cub?" Came Sirius' voice, and Harry opened his eyes reluctantly. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and was startled when he found traces of tears on his cheeks. He quickly rubbed them off on his sleeve and accepted his glasses when his godfather handed them to him. He yawned and scratched the scar on the crook of his elbow where Wormtail had taken his blood; it had never healed properly and left a scar that tingled occasionally.

    "'Morning, Siri," he said, smiling when he saw Remus enter the bedroom as well. He gaped in shock the next moment, however, when he saw the tray floating behind him through the door. "W-what's this?" He asked when the tray levitated itself to the bed and onto his lap.

    "Your breakfast, Monsieur," Sirius said with a dramatic bow as he pulled the cover off of the tray. Harry gasped when he saw the plate filled with his favorite breakfast foods, the heavenly smell instantly making his mouth water.

    "What? You made this for me? Just for my birthday?" He asked in disbelief. "You didn't have to-"

    "Harry," Sirius whined, frowning pathetically, "I learned all of those complicated cooking charms to make you breakfast and you don't even want it?"

    "No, that's not what I meant!" Harry hastened to reassure the animagus. "It's just - no one's ever done anything like this for me before. I'm surprised, is all."

    "Well, it's going to be happening every year from now on, so get used to it, cub," Remus said playfully. Harry dug into the food with blissful happiness, basking in the warmth of their love. He almost expected to wake up at any second and find himself back at the Dursley's, but at the same time he knew this was all real. He listened as they made plans for the day and teased each other mercilessly, smiling softly.

    He almost managed to finish the entire plate.

    They took the plate away and allowed him to shower, calling that they'd be waiting for him downstairs when he was finished. He showered quickly and pulled on a tight black tank top followed by a dark green button-up lined with white that he left open. He pulled on some stone-washed jeans that were somewhat snug around the hips and pelvis but loose in the legs and threaded a belt through the belt loops before putting on some new black muggle boots that only came to his ankle. Finally, he strapped on the worn wand holster Shacklebolt had lent him for training and ran a hand through his wet hair before heading down the stairs. He wouldn't put it past those two to attack him on his birthday.

    Since he had just eaten, he didn't think they would be in the kitchen, so he headed to the large living room where they sometimes met after breakfast to play a game of wizard's chess while they talked about what his parents were like in school. Harry pushed open the door and was confused when he saw that it was completely dark inside. He was immediately on his guard, but before he could draw his wand the room fairly exploded with light and sound.

    "SURPRISE!" Was the word that was shouted the most, but Harry was so startled by the appearance of a roomful of people that he instantly reared back, not processing the noise as the word it was. The first logical thought that entered his head was that Shacklebolt and Moody had either managed to multiply themselves, or they had recruited a bunch of people to attack him. Without a second thought, he dove into a roll on the floor and immediately sprang into a crouch as his wand sprang into his right hand and he threw his left hand out in front of him, empty.

    " _Protego! Expelliarmus Maximus!_ " He cried, feeling his magic surging to the surface of his skin and instinctively directing it where he wanted it to go. From his empty left hand burst a familiar sphere of golden light that instantly expanded around him and from his wand shot a huge beam of light that swept across the room. Still in a state of pure instinct, Harry sensed the objects he had disarmed flying toward him and he waved his wand in a smooth circular motion that swept the objects into a neat stack on the floor next to him. In the next second he set up a small ward around the pile of objects that Stunned anyone that tried to reach through it and then pointed his wand back at the crowd of people, his left hand still outstretched.

    He blinked.

    The room was filled with his best friends and the people he now considered to be his family; Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Shacklebolt, Moody (both grinning nastily), the Weasley's (except Percy), Hermione, a couple he guessed to be her parents, Hagrid, McGonnagall, Dumbledore, and a large handful of Order members. Harry could see that the room was heavily decorated for a birthday party and there was a gigantic cake on the table in the corner. The room was completely silent.

    _Bugger me,_ he thought plainly, standing slowly and letting the shield split at the top and drop to the floor.

    "Bloody hell," someone said, and the tension broke as someone else snorted with laughter. Several more people let out a round of choked laughter and the room suddenly filled with laughs and animated conversation. Harry stood frozen, an embarrassed flush slowly infusing his neck and face until he was sure his hair would dry instantaneously and catch on fire. As it was, he ran a slightly trembling hand through his still-wet hair and dropped his burning face into it, shaking his head.

    "Good show, lad," came a familiar gruff voice next to his elbow and Harry's head shot up, eyes blazing angrily. Moody appeared to be extremely amused, his creased mouth tilting upward in one corner and his magical eye spinning to check the reactions of the people behind him.

    "This is all your fault!" Harry hissed, his wand twitching slightly in his hand as he consciously forced himself not to use it. "You've got me as jumpy as you!"

    "Don't worry about it, Harry," Shacklebolt rumbled as he came up beside Moody. He flashed the green-eyed boy a pleased grin that promised much pain in training sessions to come. "Very nice dual spell usage and a most impressive display of instinctual wandless magic. Very few people can control their innate magic in the way you just did; we'll definitely be exploring those particular abilities in the future." He patted Harry on the shoulder and moved on with Moody just as Ron and Hermione rushed up to him.

    Harry tried not to stiffen too much when Hermione threw her arms around him and started babbling into his ear about wandless magic, how he looked so good, wandless magic, how she hoped his summer was good, and wandless magic.

    "Hermione, calm down, you're killing him!" Ron broke in, grinning widely he tugged on Hermione's sleeve. He seemed to have grown even more and was now topping six feet tall, though his form was still somewhat gangly, and his blue eyes were sparkling amusedly. Harry felt his less-than-average height sharply as he looked up into his friend's face but felt a bright, nearly blinding smile stretch his face to the limit as an overwhelming feeling of love and happiness swelled inside his body, making him feel almost intoxicated.

    "It's great to see you guys," Harry said sincerely as Hermione finally moved back to stand next to Ron. She was almost beginning to grow into her body and he could clearly see her potential to become quite beautiful; her hair beginning to tame to a wavy curl and her brown eyes sparkling brightly with knowledge and excitement. From the expression on Ron's face as he glanced at her, the redhead could see it clearly also. Harry noted that they were also assessing him critically and he tried not to feel embarrassed as they did so. He had not grown an inch since the end of school and while the nourishment potions he was still taking with his meals had put some weight onto his frame, he had been nearly skeletal before, so he still turned out thinner than he had been before he left Hogwarts. However, he also knew what a difference nice clean clothes and a loving family made and he felt like he had passed some kind of test when Hermione met his eyes again with a bright, approving smile.

    "You look great, Harry, though I suppose the Dursley's didn't feed you well at all this summer, did they?" She gave him a shrewd look that made Harry fear his secret had been found out, but then she continued and the look was gone. "I'm glad you got to be able to come here so soon to be with Sirius; it must be so exciting to be able to learn and use magic here during the summer!"

    "'Mione, you're the only one in school that would be excited to learn during the summer," Harry replied with a smile.

    "You hypocrite!" Ron teased. "What, did you think we were a room full of Death Eaters or something? That was some pretty advanced spellwork, mate." Harry flushed again and huffed.

    "You'd be paranoid too if you had Moody training you. He and Shacklebolt were on my back yesterday about using objects in surprise attacks and I-"

    Ron winced and held up his hands, pleading defeat. "Ouch, bullocks to be you, mate. Sorry I asked." Hermione slapped his shoulder, since she couldn't reach his head.  
    "Ron! Harry has the chance of a lifetime to learn from real Aurors; I'd kill to have that kind of opportunity!" Her eyes were feverishly bright and Harry took a cautious step backward, saying, "I'm sure you would." He and Ron broke up into laughter as she huffed and crossed her arms.

    From across the room, Dumbledore, Sirius, Remus, and the Weasley parents stood watching Harry interact with his friends with smiles on their faces.

    "This is so good for him," Molly said with a sniff and a proud smile. "He was becoming too serious associating with adults all the time. He needs to remember what it's like to be with friends his age again."

    "Yes, his friends fill a part of him that none of us could," Dumbledore agreed. "They complete him; more than he will ever know, and he will need their support in the future more than anyone else's as he returns to school. They have, after all, been with him the longest." They nodded solemnly.

    "Albus, that shield before..." Remus broke the brief silence hesitantly. "That was a level of wandless magic I haven't seen anyone perform before... and he's done it twice now. He's also done other spells like _Scourgify_ several times in one day without even realizing it and the use of such strong magic doesn't drain or tire him in the least. I'm sure he has no idea how rare and powerful it is to be able to perform such spells so easily at his age, he grew up as a muggle, after all. Does this mean... the prophecies-"

    "Yes, Remus, you know I believe that young Harry is the subject of both prophesies," Dumbledore broke in gently, his expression heavy with sadness. "The other members of the Order that are here tonight are also beginning to see why I believe it is so. And that means his life will become infinitely more difficult as time passes. He will have to be informed of the prophesies soon in order to understand the severity of his situation."

    Molly gasped. "But Albus," she protested, "he's just a child. Such a burden-"

    "He has proved himself more than capable of shouldering such a burden, Molly," Dumbledore interrupted, his blue eyes stern. "He is wise and mature beyond his years, and it is time for him to begin readying himself for his destiny. I, more than anyone, wish it was not so, but Harry will not have it any other way. And that, more than anything, will allow him to rise to meet the challenge.

* * *

 

    Soon, people began approaching Harry to ask for their belongings, which had been in their hands when Harry had said the spell, and to wish him a happy birthday. At this, Harry blushed again and apologized profusely as he took off the small ward (which he had learned only two days ago) and distributed the objects, which included only a few wands. Most of the objects were things like cups of juice or water, napkins, and party hats.

    "That was smashing, Harry old boy," a familiar voice said after he had handed out the items.

    "Yes, it will certainly..."

    "...make a very good..."

    "...photo series, if you would..." 

    "...be so kind as to..."

    "...allow us to distribute it..."

    "...for a small price, of course..."

    "...some of which you will receive..."

    "...as a portion of the proceeds."

    Harry grinned and turned around to face the rapidly speaking twins, one of which held a camera in his hands. The smile dropped instantly and Harry groaned. "You took pictures?" He asked apprehensively.

    "Well, we were only planning on..."

    "...getting a good laugh out of your reaction..."

    "...but we got something..."

    "...so much better!" The twins beamed, but Hermione shook her head in frustration.

    "Will you stop doing that?" She snapped. "You're giving me a headache!" The twins looked thoughtful, glancing at each other, but before they could respond, Harry broke in.  
    "You do realize that underage magic is undetectable here, don't you?" He asked innocently. Hermione's eyes gleamed and she began fingering her wand. The twins exchanged an alarmed look and began backing away.

    "Er..." mumbled one (Harry guessed George) nervously. "We'll just be going over there now..."

    "Yeah, happy birthday, Harry!"

    "Retreat!" They cried together before turning tail and running. Hermione's expression was a mix of smug and indignant while Ron howled in laughter and Harry chuckled.

    "Ah, hello my boy," Dumbledore said from behind him, and Harry jumped before turning around with a smile.

    "Professor-"

    "Ah, ah, Harry," chided the old wizard, his eyes twinkling madly, and Harry smiled ruefully.

    "Er... Albus. Thank you for coming, and helping set everything up. I had heard that Hermione and Ron wouldn't be able to come because it was too dangerous and I wasn't expecting anything."

    "That is often a most important element in a surprise party," Dumbledore said wisely before sighing as his eyes swept the happy room. "Ah, such gatherings are rare and important in such times, Harry. Never forget what you're fighting for, and always be sure to keep your friends and family close."

    Harry nodded, a little puzzled.

    "Now, Harry, I've kept you from your guests long enough. Perhaps a round around the room would be best in order to greet everyone," he prompted, smiling as Harry blushed a bit and thanked him again before doing just that. Harry traveled around the room and thanked everyone for coming, spending a few moments chatting with each of them before moving on. Many Order members left not long afterwards and Harry was just shaking the hand of Sturgis Podmore when Hermione approached him with the couple he had assumed where her parents. Sure enough, she introduced them to him as Aaron and Elise Granger.

    "Mum, Dad, this is my best friend, Harry Potter," Hermione introduced, and Harry smiled as he shook both of their hands. He could see where Hermione got her looks. Her father was of average height with a balding head of bushy brown hair and brown eyes while her mother had long, wavy brown hair with blonde highlights. Both were well-dressed and he could see the intelligence and curiosity that was always present in Hermione's eyes. Harry was glad that he no longer had to wear Dudley's old clothes.

    "Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Granger," Harry said, "thank you for coming. It's wonderful to finally meet you."

    "Please call me Elise, Harry," Elise said as her husband nodded. "We've heard so much about you and Ron from Hermione that we just had to come and meet you. I'm sorry that we arrived uninvited."

    Harry shook his head, smiling. "No, it's no problem at all; I wasn't expecting anyone over at all for my birthday, so the more the merrier, as far as I'm concerned."

    They chatted from a few minutes more, and Harry was pleased to note that except for a curious glance at his scar, they didn't react at all as if they were meeting a celebrity. _And why should they?_ Harry asked himself. _Hermione probably told them about my past, but I'm just a normal kid to them._ It was an exhilarating thought.

    A sharp bang suddenly went off near the corner of the room, causing Hermione's parents to jump and Harry's wand to jump into his hand, but he saw that it was only Mrs. Weasley.

    "Alright, everyone," she called as the room became silent, "I'd like to welcome you all to Harry Potter's fifteen birthday party and-" she was drowned out for a few seconds as the room erupted in applause and Harry blushed again, waving weakly to the crowd. Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat and continued, "Yes, yes, happy birthday, Harry. Since it's still far too early to eat the cake, I think it's time for Harry to open presents! Harry, come down here, dear," the room cheered and pushed Harry toward the corner of the room near the cake, where a large table had been set up. He gasped when he saw that the table was covered with brightly-colored gifts and boxes from his friends and family. Before he could protest, he was guided to a chair next to the table and a gift was shoved into his hands.

    Still in shock, he automatically unwrapped the gift carefully ("Aw, just open it, Har!" Fred, or George, cried) and opened the box. Instantly, he could tell that it was from Hermione as it was a thick book entitled _1001 Defensive Curses for the Constantly Cursed._ He flipped through it interestedly and saw that it would be very helpful. He thanked her and moved onto the next one. By the time there was only two gifts left, he was nearly speechless with emotions and could only stammer out his thanks in stunned gratefulness, though everyone could see just how much the gifts meant to him.   

    He had received a Quidditch book and a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans from Ron, a box of experimental joke products from the twins (he set this aside very carefully and no one went near it for the rest of the day), a care package of homemade fudge and a scarf from the Weasley parents, beautiful wood carvings of a familiar dragon, phoenix, and three-headed dog from Hagrid, a blank journal with never-ending pages from Remus ("There are many different ways to release emotion," he said cryptically), a well-worn Snitch from Sirius that had belonged to his father, and a set of journals that had belonged to the Marauders from both of them (though they appeared to be fifth-year textbooks to anyone else). Surprisingly, he also received several Dark Detectors from Moody and a brand new wand holster that could be strapped to the thigh from Shacklebolt ("Charmed to be invisible and the dragonhide prevents anyone but you from touching or Summoning it," he explained).

    Finally, the last two gifts were the largest. Bill Weasley grunted as he carried over a box wrapped in silvery paper that had random, brightly-colored star bursts over it. Opening the card curiously (he couldn't think of anyone else he knew), Harry gaped when he saw the familiar loopy handwriting. He carefully unwrapped the box and opened it to see a stone basin covered in complicated runes; the gift eliciting awed gasps from the room. Harry sucked in a sharp breath, looking up at the Headmaster in shock.

    "Albus... your Pensieve?" He asked uncertainly, but the old wizard shook his head with a small, sad smile.

    "No, my boy, that is yours. It is quite similar to my own, as you've noticed, but the runes and coloring are a bit different. I hope that it will be of great use to you in the coming years as the darker memories start to outnumber the lighter ones. A Pensieve will help put things into perspective when times seem to be at their most dark and dire."

    Harry nodded and thanked him soberly before the last gift was set in front of him. This one was wrapped in deep red wrapping with the outline of a blazing phoenix in the center and Harry searched for a card, but could not find one.

    "This is from the entire Order, Harry." Dumbledore said helpfully, "You've gained a special place in all of our hearts and, apparently, in our stomachs as well." Harry chuckled a bit and pulled of the lid off the box slowly, revealing the contents to the room.

    "Bloody hell!" Ron burst out, earning a smack on the back of the head from his mother that went ignored. "Are those all dragonhide?"

    "Yes, they're all made from the hide of a fully-grown black Hungarian Horntail at the peak of its magical maturation. They are charmed to be light-weight, water- and fire-proof, indestructible, and the natural magic in the hide resists most spells," Shacklebolt explained as Harry lifted out the contents of the box. There was another wand holster for his wrist; thick, heavy-looking boots that reached up to the knee; thin but strong gloves that reached the elbow and had retractable fingers for delicate work; a black bodysuit that appeared to be made of thin, pliable leather that hugged the body; and finally, a magnificent set of deep red battle robes to wear over the protective body suit. It also seemed to be made of pliable dragonhide and looked somewhat like a muggle duster, reaching to the feet and fitted with a belt that seemed to be able to hold weapons of some sort. At the hips, the robes separated into large, overlapping panels of dragonhide that would allow for maximum body movement and protection without restrictions. A blazing phoenix, intricately detailed in silver and pale gold thread, spread its wings across the back and was also present in a small patch over the left breast.

    "These are Auror-level protection gear," Tonks said in a serious tone that she rarely used. "We don't expect you to wear the battle robes or even all of the gear right now; they're for the time when you know that you are ready to wear them and use them for their true purpose." Harry nodded absently, a thoughtful expression on his face.

    "They're not for me. At least, not yet. They're for... someone else. Someone I'll become," he said slowly, his brow furrowed as he tried to voice the instinctual thoughts that came to his mind. Dumbledore, Sirius, and Remus exchanged surprised glances while Harry shook his head and blushed lightly. "Never mind, that didn't make any sense. Thanks, everyone, you don't know how much this means to me." He said earnestly, looking around the gift-strewn table with awe. Everyone watched him with some sadness, knowing how hard his life had been. Hermione and Ron, however, were used to Harry's lack of a conventional childhood and quickly tried to change the conversation before it could become uncomfortable for him.

    "Yeah, yeah, can we have cake now?" Ron said loudly, throwing an arm around Harry and ignoring the subsequent flinch. "I'm starving here, Harry!" Harry rolled his eyes, but smiled.

    "Ask your mum, Ron, she's in charge of everything."

    "Mum?" Ron whined hopefully, turning to the stern matriarch.

    "I suppose so..."

    "Ah, I'm afraid there is one last gift for Harry, Molly," the Headmaster broke in, his eyes twinkling full blast. "I'm afraid if I had forgotten it I would have been denied medical treatment for two months. Poppy has asked me to tell you, Harry, that her gift to you is a plaque with your name on it waiting for you back in the Hospital Wing. I believe you know which bed...?"

    Harry blinked in disbelief, an amused grin spreading over his face. "So she finally did it, huh? Right side, third down?" Dumbledore nodded in confirmation and the room was filled with laughter once more.

    "Pardon my interruption, Molly," the old wizard said when the laughter died down again. "I believe there is some cake to be eaten." Mrs. Weasley ushered everyone over to the cake table, muttering under her breath about the dangers of eating cake so early in the morning, and Harry soon found himself standing in front of a large circular cake with a simple snitch in the center. The snitch seemed to be charmed to weave in between the lit candles stuck into the cake. For a long moment, he just stared at it with a blissful expression, reveling in his first birthday cake.

    "Hurry up and make a wish, Harry," Ron (of course) whined. Harry gave him a strange look.

    "What? Why would I make a wish?" There was a beat of silence.

    "It's... tradition, Harry. Haven't you ever had a birthday party before?" Hermione asked. Harry stared before giving a short, bitter bark of laughter similar to his godfather's. Everyone seemed to realize what that meant at the same moment and there was complete silence in the room.

    "With the Dursley's? Of course I've never had a birthday party before, 'Mione. Er... didn't you know that?" He asked uncertainly. Hermione and Ron shook their heads dumbly and Harry felt a deep blush infusing his face for the second time that day.

    "Er... well, it's no big deal," he said hurriedly, trying to stem the flow of tears from Hermione and Mrs. Weasley. "It just makes me appreciate today even more. Come on, 'Mione, just tell me what to do, ok?" She smiled a watery smile and sniffed a bit, but didn't answer before she enveloped him in a tight hug. Everyone noticed the way he stiffened and awkwardly patted her back and Mrs. Weasley turned away, burying her face in her husband's shoulder.

    Harry sent Ron a pleading look and his friend clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Nothing doing, mate," he said in a rueful tone. "Don't know why women like to cry themselves dry over poor, deprived saviors of the world, but I'd say you're doomed to it for the rest of your life."

    Harry rolled his eyes. "Not helping, Ron," he said through gritted teeth.

    "Hey, it's not my fault the Dursley's hate you," he said defensively. "Look, all you do is think about a wish and blow out the candles. They're supposed to come true if you do that; load of bullocks, if you ask me." Hermione had stopped crying and abruptly slapped him on the arm, frowning.

    "Ron!"

    Harry laughed and closed his eyes for a second, concentrating on the wish for all of his friends and family to survive the war, and blew out the candles. Apparently, they were wizard candles because when he blew on them, not only did the flames go out, but the candle disappeared as well. He guessed that it was a more literal meaning to the phrase "blowing the candles out". The remaining crowd of people (most of the Order members, McGonagall and Hagrid had left) raised a cheer and Mrs. Weasley began cutting the cake, still sniffling slightly. Harry tried not to notice the pitying glances that were sent his way and instead made the best of the time he had left with Ron and Hermione, since they would not be able to stay over the rest of the summer.

    Not long after the cake had been cut and eaten, people began drifting away again and soon it was just Sirius, Remus, the Weasley's, and the Granger's. They talked together long into the day and night, sharing adventures at Hogwarts (the adults were surprised and slightly horrified when they learned the full extent of some of the Golden Trio's "adventures") and sharing magic with the Granger's, who had never been able to see what Hermione had been learning to do and were eager to learn more about her world.

    Finally, the Granger's had explained that they needed to go home and pack for their trip to Bulgaria (Harry noticed that Ron's ears turned bright pink when he heard this, but he didn't say anything) and they left. The Weasley's, too, soon had to leave and then it was just Harry and his two "godfathers", who were holding hands on the couch in front of the fire. Harry curled up in an armchair adjacent to them, nearly falling asleep, and watched their clasped hands with a small, soft smile. The day was perfect.

* * *

  
    That night, not long after falling asleep in his bed, Harry was woken by a burning pain in his left arm. He was instantly awake and alert, but the room was silent and empty. He stifled his screams as the burning grew in intensity, spreading through all his body until he was writhing on the bed in pain. The heat seemed to plunge deeper than his skin, spreading through his heart and organs like a disease; cleansing, changing, and _adding_ something until he felt as if even his mind and soul were on fire.

    Though it felt like an eternity, only a few seconds passed of agonizing pain before a gentle, soothing cool, like a drip of cool water on a hot day, began on his left forearm and spread until it enveloped him in a soft cocoon of comfort. His limbs stopped shaking and he just lay panting into the silence as his mind gradually began to return to him. He sat up, wondering if that had been Voldemort's idea of a birthday gift, but that didn't make any sense because his pain had been soothed after something had been burned into his arm-

    Harry froze and yanked up the sleeve of his pajamas frantically. _Tom, if you somehow gave me the Dark Mark, I'll-_

    But instead of a grinning skull and snake burned blackly into his arm, Harry found something completely different and completely unexpected.

    A beautiful white-gold phoenix, so intricately detailed that it looked alive, blinked its gentle amber eyes up at him for a moment before it returned its head beneath its wing and seemed to fall asleep, while Harry just gaped. _What the hell?_ Was the only thought running through his mind repeatedly for the first minute or so as he stared at his arm. This would explain the burning (though it didn't explain why it had happened in the first place), but what about...

    Harry cautiously turned his gaze inward, searching for the part of his mind that had been added and changed, and he quickly bypassed Voldemort's dark presence before finding another presence just at the back of his mind; closer than Voldemort's and not Dark at all, but completely unfamiliar. _What is this, the_ Harry Hotel _?_ Harry thought sarcastically. Very carefully and very cautiously, he gently nudged the presence in his mind and did the mental equivalent of jumping back and throwing his arms up over his head. However, nothing happened except that he received a faint feeling of curiosity and comfort from the presence.

    Opening his eyes, he glanced down at his arm and was surprised to see the phoenix stir and open its eyes to gaze at him for a moment before ruffling its feathers and spreading its wings. His only warning was a sudden pressure on his arm similar to that of Hedwig taking off before something burst from his beneath his skin in a shower of golden sparks. Though he threw an arm to cover his eyes, the sparks didn't burn at all, and Harry slowly lowered his arm just in time to see the magnificent bird settle itself on his left knee and watch him with an intelligent gaze. It was similar to Fawkes in the fact that it was about the size of a swan, but its coloring was gold and white instead of red and orange. It opened its beak and the soft, familiar sound of the phoenix song filled the room and swept through his mind with an exhilarating feeling of welcome.

    _Hello, brother (child/friend)_ , _it is wonderful to finally meet you (fly with you/guide you)._

    The words came unbidden to his mind, a strange mixture of thought, speech, and emotion that he automatically translated from the phoenix song. Feeling stunned and a little flustered ( _That is happening way too much lately,_ he thought), Harry responded out loud.

    "Er... hello."

    It wasn't his most intelligent moment, but the phoenix seemed to understand, as a soft wave of trilling laughter came into his thoughts.

    _You are confused (surprised/dismayed/curious). Do not worry; I am here only to help you (guide you/protect you) on your journey through life, which is becoming even more difficult. I chose to be your guardian (protector/friend/guide) before you were born, though you are just now growing mature enough to accept me._

"I don't understand," Harry said, trying to ignore the fact that he was talking to a bird, no matter how intelligent it was. "Who are you? What are you? What does it mean when you say you're my 'guardian'? Why me?"

    _All very good questions, brother. My name is Zephyr, and I am a golden phoenix. Before you were born, the Powers That Be sent a vision of the future to the Heads (Fathers/Kings/Leaders) of all the Clans (Families/Mates) of phoenixes, concerning a child that would be born to a cruel fate. This child would suffer hardships and trials from infancy that would only grow worse as two prophesies of Fate would dictate his life, but the child would remain untainted and pure of intent and heart, though his body and mind would be greatly scarred. His own strength of will (character/heart/love) would not be enough, however, and Fate dictated that he was to have companions (friends/family/lover) and guardians to help guide him on his difficult path. I chose to be one of your guides. Although I am only two hundred years old, I assure you that my parents (guardians/teachers/friends) taught me well to prepare me for my task._

Harry sat still as he processed the information. He understood that he was the child the phoenix - Zephyr was a female, he sensed - had described, but he didn't understand anything about prophesies or his fate or why he needed something as powerful as a phoenix to guide him. Only really powerful wizards like Dumbledore were chosen by phoenixes, weren't they? Harry was barely above average in school (except in Defense Against the Dark Arts), and that was most likely because of Hermione's help. He also felt a bit bad that the young phoenix had pledged her life to help him without really having a chance to live her own, but Zephyr seemed to read his mind and sent him a burst of comfort and love and reassurance.

    _Do not worry, young Harry. I am pleased and honored to be your guide, and I have a feeling that life with you will be anything but dull._ _I'm afraid that I cannot tell you about the prophecies or your destiny at the moment, however; it is not my place. You will learn of them soon enough and we can progress from there._  
    Harry nodded uncertainly. "If you say so. Erm, I don't think that it would be smart to let Voldemort find out about you; how will you live with me? In my arm? And what happened a few minutes ago?"

    _Very good, young Harry,_ Zephyr praised, pleased, and Harry blushed. _You noticed the differences the bonding made to your body and mind very quickly. As a golden phoenix, one of my traits is that if I choose to bind myself with a human, the connection between us is much more deep and intricate than, say, the bond between your Headmaster and his phoenix. Where theirs is a companionship between two separate creatures, I am bonded to you so completely that we cease to be separate beings; I_ am _you, just as much as you are me. When I integrate (meld/bond/fuse) with your body, I receive energy and strength from the food you eat and from your sleep just as much as you do. When I separate from you, however, I provide for my own food and sleep. Much of the time, I will be fully integrated with you in the form of the tattoo on your body; this makes it easier to for me to protect you and communicate with you. The "tattoo" of me is able to move around your/our body at will in order to protect my/our identity._

    _As to the other... our connection is so deep that the bond was initially quite painful, but now that we have been bonded (fused/melted), we have both been changed permanently. The changes for me have been small, but your changes are large and cannot be accurately predicted. For example, I have received the knowledge of human customs and nature from our bond, and I sense that you have gained many of my abilities such as the knowledge to speak with all other animals. Like phoenixes, you have also been matched with a soul mate (life mate/perfect/lover/One) that will complete and compliment you in every way possible. Your natural ability for wandless (natural/wild/elemental/powerful) magic has also been exponentially increased, as have your five senses and a sixth sense for emotions that phoenixes possess._

   Startled, Harry reached up to touch his face and realized that he had never put his glasses on, but he could see every detail in the large, dark room. His head was spinning with the possibilities and implications of what Zephyr was calmly explaining.

    _Your magical core (life magic/energy/life) has also been greatly increased to the point that you may have even inherited (gained) an eternal life span like a phoenix. Do not be overly distressed with this, as you will have my companionship and the eternal love of your mate during the long years. Many other phoenix traits may arise and possibilities will become realized in the future, but for now, try to sleep, brother.  
_     "Will you explain more to me later? There's so much I need to learn." Harry said desperately as Zephyr readied herself for flight. The phoenix paused and looked him over with a warm look in her eyes before arching her neck over to him and running her beak comfortingly through his hair. He unconsciously leaned into the touch as she sang a song that he interpreted to be a kind of lullaby.

    _Of course, Harry (brother/child). I will always be here to help you._

    She continued to sing, the beautiful strains bringing thoughts and feelings of comfort and motherly love to Harry's mind. Burying his head into the pillow and curling into a ball, Harry wrapped his arms around his thin frame and forced himself not to feel alone in a world that was beginning to become much more complicated.

      

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Voldemort has his own gift, and Harry discovers a prophecy.

    Harry woke the next morning to a sharp bolt of pain through his scar that had him sitting up and slapping a hand to his forehead with a sharp cry. Against his will, his yelp changed into a high-pitched laughter that echoed horribly around the room, driving his fear and anxiety higher, even as foreign waves of glee threatened to overwhelm him. Suddenly, a vaguely familiar pressure on his arm and a burst of light erupted in the corner of his eye. A fresh wave of triumphant laughter caused him to close his eyes, tears of pain and distress lining his eyelids, and he felt enormously relieved when Zephyr began to sing. The song of strength and courage filled his ears and he felt the happiness slowly ebbing until he was left exhausted, anxious and, above all, angry.

    With a grateful thanks to the phoenix, who merely bowed her head in acknowledgment and let out a trill of comfort, Harry threw on his clothes before throwing open his door and racing down the stairs. Bursting into the kitchen where he knew Order members would be gathered, Harry stood in the doorway with his hair a wild mess and emerald green eyes blazing in anger and thinly-veiled fear, his penetrating gaze unshielded by glasses. He barely glanced at the other members, who were gaping in surprise, instead focusing his gaze on Dumbledore, who seemed as calm as ever.

    "What happened?" He demanded, the faintest of raspy growls at the edge of his tone. He noticed that not many people looked devastated as though someone they knew had died; indeed, Tonks looked faintly smug, but most were somewhat grave. If anything, Dumbledore seemed a bit surprised at the fact that he didn't know what was going on.

    "I take it that you didn't have a vision, then, Harry?" He asked, and Harry fairly growled in frustration. He hadn't had a vision because he had been woken by Zephyr.

    "No, but I think I have a right to know what it was that made Voldemort so happy that _I_ woke up laughing as insanely as he was," he said in a tone of forced calm. Remus paled and Sirius immediately shot out of his chair to rush to his side.

    " _What?_ Are you alright? Your scar is red," Sirius babbled worriedly.

    "I'm _fine_ , Sirius, now will someone bloody well tell me what is _going on?_ "

    A newspaper suddenly came sliding down the table to stop next to his hand, tossed by Snape, who sneered at the glares he received from the Weasley's and Tonks.

    "Well, he asked," he snarked, but Harry wasn't listening.

    He was staring down at the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ with a completely blank expression as a feeling of horror, rage, and unexpected grief welled up inside of him, begging for release. The title of the article was " _Birthday Greeting for the Boy-Who-Lived_ ", and emblazoned across the page was a photo of Privet Drive, every house on the both sides of the street either blazing or already crumbled in ashes. Except, oddly, Number 4, which appeared to be in perfect condition. Charred corpses of children and adults lay in front lawns and in the street in grotesquely unnatural positions, but the lawn of Harry's old home was perfectly cut and the windows gleamed proudly amidst the ruin surrounding it. Above the street, Harry could see the green skull lighting up the sky with a snake protruding from its mouth, its eyes mocking and triumphant.

    Beneath the Dark Mark, in smoky green curling letters were the words, " _Happy Birthday, Harry._ "

    The paper crumpled in his hand as he clenched his fist, eyes blazing with anger. "Damn him, the sick bastard," he hissed, his voice very nearly slipping into Parseltongue, so cold and enraged that shivers slid down many people's spines. "Damn him, I didn't even remember that it was my birthday until the day before!"

    Dumbledore sighed, trying to placate him with his infuriatingly calm tone. "Now, Harry, calm down and try to think logically-"

    "Calm down!" Harry snarled, eyes snapping to Dumbledore's so fast that people near the Headmaster leaned back to escape his piercing glare. "He _killed_ them, Dumbledore! The only people in the world that _hated_ me just as much as he does and he kills them! Merlin forbid if he actually knew how they treated me, he probably would have _complimented_ them before he used the Killing Curse. They all thought I was a delinquent, a criminally insane thief, and they were all cursed, more than once, and died because they lived on the same  _street_ that I did!"

    Something at that moment snapped within Harry, the strain of his emotions becoming too great, and an aura of silver and gold flames flickered to life and suddenly flared around his body, pulsing down the length of his arms and dripping tongues of cool silver fire to the floor where they vanished without a trace. Green sparks reminiscent of Harry's eyes and the Killing Curse erupted from his fingertips, which were pressed to the tabletop, but Harry never noticed anything. Dumbledore had stood as well, an aura of deep royal blue flickering warningly from his hands, and their gazes were locked in a fierce battle of wills.

    "Calm yourself, Harry!" The powerful old wizard commanded in a tone that was rarely heard from the man that normally appeared to be nothing more than a senile grandfather. Paralyzed, the other occupants of the room could only stare in awe and fear at the powerful clash of wills occurring only a hands-breadth from them; a horrible fascination similar to watching a train crash creeping over their minds.

    "You're doing exactly what Tom wants you to do! He wants your anger to consume you, he wants to _feel_ your horror and rage, and you're playing right into his hands. You must calm yourself; you must not give into the Dark and reveal just how deep your connection is!"

    For several long moments, there was only the sound of Harry's ragged breathing as his hands clenched involuntarily and he bowed his head, his untamed mop of hair floating in a non-existent breeze and blocking view of his expression, but the words seemed to have gotten through to him. His aura was still flickering chaotically around him, however, and he eventually released his pent up anger and magic by smashing his fist into the table, the magically-enhanced blow causing a deep crack down the center, and a gust of hot air emanating from his still form blew violently through the room. This caused his aura to vanish instantly and he stood still, his head still bowed and his shoulders slumped.

    "Harry..." Dumbledore said softly, cautiously, but Harry spoke as if he hadn't heard.

    "It's at times like this that I wonder if the Dursley's were right about everything they ever said about me," he said quietly in a tone heavy with bitterness and despair, almost to himself, but everyone heard him clearly. Those familiar with his life at the Dursley's sucked in a breath, alarmed and dismayed, but before anyone could say anything he turned and left the room. After he left, stirring the ashes of what had been the _Daily Prophet_ , there was a brief moment of silence before the groan of cracking wood filled the room and Dumbledore had to cast a spell to keep the thick kitchen table halves from falling into everyone's laps.  
  
    Two days later, after much time spent alone in his locked room with Zephyr and almost constant strains of phoenix song filling his mind and calming his turbulent thoughts, Harry rejoined his "family" and apologized to the members of the Order and Dumbledore. He was not much different in the way that he interacted with his friends, but the extent of the effects of that day were seen in the intensity with which he threw himself into his studies. In the time immediately after the Dursley's deaths, he improved in all areas of his training by leaps and bounds, and everyone was both pleased and concerned with his progress. He had never mentioned his reaction to Sirius and Remus, and in return they reluctantly kept their silence knowing that he still didn't trust anyone enough to share such personal thoughts with them.

     During this time, Harry also remembered Zephyr's mention of the prophecies that concerned him, but it wasn't until nearly a week after he had apologized to the Headmaster that he felt ready to accept another blow to his world. Before he could lose his nerve, he called for Dumbledore to visit him with two weeks left until the start of term. When the Headmaster arrived, he and a bewildered Sirius and Remus followed Harry upstairs to his bedroom, where he paced nervously for a few seconds, trying to get his thoughts together.

    "I'm not sure how to phrase this..." Harry began hesitantly, facing his concerned "godparents" (as far as he was concerned). "This meeting should have happened a week ago... well, actually it should have happened a long time before that," he sent a quick, hard glance at Dumbledore but continued, "but beggars can't be choosers. The truth is, I know that there are two prophecies concerning me that Albus, at least, knows about, and I need to know also." The old wizard looked surprised and thoughtful while his godparents looked completely gobsmacked.

    "How did you find out about the prophesies, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, not bothering to deny it any longer. Harry shook his head, expression firm. He wanted the Headmaster to tell him because he believed Harry worthy, not because he confirmed that Harry was the object of the prophesies.

    "It doesn't matter, sir, I just need to know. It's my right," he said simply. Remus and Sirius, he noted, actually looked a bit proud of him as he said this. The old wizard sighed and stroked his beard in contemplation.

    "I was actually planning on telling you about the prophesies on the day after your birthday as well, but after the unfortunate circumstances... I thought it best to wait. I want you to know that I had waited on telling you for several reasons, most of which were an old man's mistake in assuming that you were too young to handle the knowledge even as you continued to prove yourself worthy. However, as the summer has passed you have forced me to acknowledge that you have grown into a mature and responsible young man. Therefore, I believe that I should tell you something more about the one known as Voldemort before you hear these prophesies..."

    Harry battled down the frustration that came with the delay and listened carefully as Dumbledore explained everything he knew about Voldemort's family, his mother, and the circumstances that brought him into the wizarding world. Harry absorbed all the information about Voldemort's rapid turn to the Dark Arts and what Dumbledore suspected Voldemort did afterward. More than once, Harry recognized the similarities that Voldemort had always harped about in their encounters, but he carefully shoved that thought away before it could take a hold of him. Eventually, Dumbledore fell silent again, stroking his beard for a moment before leaning forward in his chair and capturing Harry's eyes with intensity.

    "Harry, I told you about Voldemort's past because I want you to _understand_ Tom Riddle; the young man that Voldemort _was_. Always keep in mind that even the worst of humans are still human, wizard or not. It is important to have mercy and understanding when evil forces your hand to kill. Without that crucial understanding, the road to the Dark Arts is easy to walk on.

    "And now, listen carefully. There have actually been several hundred smaller prophesies throughout the years, all repeating phrases concerning the same child or person, the Phoenix Lord, but we have narrowed down the two that have been the fullest and most comprehensive of the rest. The first prophecy is one that was given hundreds of years of years ago by Cassandra Trelawney, an ancestor of our very own Sybil Trelawney. Cassandra, however, was well known to be a True Seer that regular spoke prophecies. The prophecy we are concerned about is as follows:

    
_The Phoenix Child..._  
Borne from ash and love undying,  
The Phoenix Child will grow among trials and hatred everlasting.  
Nevertheless, pure and untainted of heart is he,  
though his body and mind is scarred with Dark intentions.  
The Phoenix Child is borne... only to die,  
And be borne again.  
Great darkness falls upon us all,  
But the Phoenix Child has a power we know not  
That will serve as our Light.  
The Phoenix Child will grow to be the Phoenix Lord,  
And yet a child, he is still.  
But both the Dark and the Light will fall  
And the Phoenix Child will be borne... only to die  
For neither can live while the other survives."  
  
  


    There was complete silence as the occupants of the room contemplated the words, all three adults watching Harry for some sign of emotion, but the Boy-Who-Lived was feeling strangely calm as he memorized the prophecy.

    "And the other?" He asked finally, his expression blank. Dumbledore cleared his throat.

    "The other was given nearly seventeen years ago by a woman I was interviewing for the position of Divination teacher. The woman was not showing much promise and I was about to take my leave when she spoke the following prophecy:

  
_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches..._  
Born to those who have thrice defied him,  
Born as the seventh month dies...  
And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal,  
But he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...  
And either must die at the hand of the other  
For neither can live while the other survives...  
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord  
Will be born as the seventh month dies..."  
  
  


    "I believe you are familiar with the speaker of this prophecy and can attest to her validity, Harry. Of course, after she spoke the prophecy, dear Sybil didn't remember a thing, but was certainly delighted when she learned that she had gotten the position." He chuckled, but sobered immediately as he gazed into Harry's eyes, which were still blank. "Harry, a Death Eater had followed me that night and heard the first three lines of the prophecy before I discovered him and he fled. He returned to Voldemort and reported his discovery, thus prompting Tom to search for all children that would fit the criteria in order to kill them before they became a threat.

    "Unfortunately, you, my boy, and Neville Longbottom fill those particular requirements. For some reason, Voldemort went after you first, thus setting into motion the course to his own downfall and, in the future, his demise."

    "And, apparently, my own," Harry murmured to himself.

    "The prophecies never specify that, Harry," Remus said sharply.

    "Didn't you hear the part that said I would be born only to die?" Harry asked, giving him a strange look.

    "There are many different kinds of death, Harry," Dumbledore said cryptically. "Prophecies are almost never straight-forward or clear in their meaning and can mean several different things at once. They are always open to interpretation and I suggest that you not take them as predictions of your death; I, personally, have a theory that would explain that the prophecies are only predictions of your success, and subsequent survival, against the Dark Lord."

    There were several long moments of silence, and when it became clear that the eccentric wizard would not share his theory, Harry sighed.

    "So, it could have been Neville, could it?" He commented, trying to imagine a world where shy, accident-prone Neville was the Boy-Who-Lived.

    "Perhaps, but it is highly doubtful," Dumbledore said. "No one knows why Voldemort chose to kill the Potter's first. There are powers beyond our understanding that dictate Fate and Destiny; it is they who choose to reveal a prophecy centuries before it will come to pass, and it is they who predicted that Tom Riddle would become a Dark Lord and attack a little boy named Harry Potter and thus produce an instrument of his own destruction."

    _An instrument._

Suddenly, at those last words, the emotions that had been strangely absent in the past several minutes came back to Harry in an eruption of confusion, dismay, anger, helplessness, and above all, fear. He exploded from his seat and began pacing, his aura flickering about him but not solidifying as flames of gold and silver trailed in the wake of his agitated footsteps. He shot Dumbledore an angry glare as he paced in front of them.

    "So that's it, is it? That's what you think of me? A tool, an instrument for Voldemort's destruction? Oh, poor little Harry, his life has been absolutely buggered up since his parents died, but it doesn't really matter, he'll wind up killing the Dark Lord and dying anyway. Let's keep him in the dark, happy and ignorant, until it's time for him to kill Voldemort and then trot him out on the front lines and hope that a miracle happens, is that it? Isn't it? That's all that matters, right? Voldemort dies in the end and the wizarding world can just go on its merry way; 'too bad about that Potter bloke, but he was always a bit nutters. Going up against Voldemort on his own? _What was he thinking?!_ '"

    By the end of his rant he was shouting hoarsely and suddenly tears were brimming in his eyes, large pearly tears that shimmered and glowed when they dropped to the floor. Phoenix tears. His tears.

    And Harry broke down.

    Wrapping his arms around himself, he slowly sunk to the floor and bent double, his forehead pressing into the cool wood floor and his tears dropping silently. His body shook and shuddered with quiet sobs and repressed emotion as someone knelt next to him and tried to gather him into their arms, succeeding when his tense body didn't respond. He didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore.

    "Too much, too much, it's just too much," Harry murmured to himself. "I can't do it, I don't want to die... but I should. Vernon should have killed me when he had the chance; I'm a freak. Worthless, filthy, murdering freak. I'm not even human anymore! It's not fair, not fair...!"

    No one seemed to know what to do; Harry was in such an unstable condition that trying to bring him back to reality could result in a blown up bedroom, if the magical charge crackling around them was any indication. Before anyone could do anything, however, the beautiful strains of phoenix song filled the room, the song of sorrow and hope filling their hearts and minds until even Harry seemed to relax, though he remained crouched on the ground. From his back, a golden glow seemed to bloom as the song continued, becoming stronger and louder as though the source was coming closer.

    Sirius cried out and jerked back when a pair of fiery white wings burst from Harry's back, disintegrating his shirt and causing his body to twitch in discomfort. Remus and Sirius both reached for their wands in alarm, but Dumbledore stopped them with a motion, his eyes twinkling in awe and understanding as he stared at the wings. With an almighty flap, the wings separated from Harry's body and the rest of the phoenix smoothly emerged. Raising its head and piping its song of hope to the ceiling, it settled down between Harry's bowed shoulders. Stretching its neck forward, it quieted its song almost to a coo as it ran its beak through the green-eyed boy's hair in a comforting motion that the others recognized. Harry's body was becoming even more relaxed, his mumbles disappearing into soft sobs and shudders as he allowed himself to reach out to the phoenix and receive some comfort in a steady companion.

    Eventually, Harry seemed to have fallen into an exhausted but restless sleep, rolling onto his side and curling into the fetal position with the phoenix clutched gently in his arms like a stuffed animal. The gentle bird didn't seem to mind, crooning its lullaby as it watched the boy it considered to be its child with a warm, proud gaze. Occasionally it would run its beak through his hair in a comforting gesture when he stirred, but in general it seemed content to watch over Harry and ignore the other occupants of the room except to let out a reassuring trill when it saw that they were still there. Dumbledore firmly grasped the elbows of both Marauders and steered them to the door.

    "Come now," he said when they acted to resist. "The fair lady in there seems to have the situation under control. Harry is in good and capable hands now; he needs something that we cannot give him at the moment. Let's let him rest and come to terms with what he has been told."

    "Albus... that phoenix..." Sirius said weakly, "it came from... inside Harry."

    The old wizard's eyes twinkled a bit in amusement. "Yes indeed," he mused. "I believe this proves a great many things, and confirms a few others."

    "Yes, but... none of that matters if Harry doesn't trust us," Remus said helplessly. "How could he think that we would think something like that about him?"

    "He was upset when he said those things, but I believe that Harry meant them, deep down," Dumbledore admitted sadly. "Although the Dursley's are gone from his life, their ideals have been ingrained in Harry so deeply that his distrust of other people is not something that we can heal on our own. We will just have to continue showing him how much we care until Harry begins to believe us."

* * *

  
  
  


    "Zephyr, what is it like to live forever?"

    _I have not yet lived for so long, nor has anyone I have met._ The phoenix trilled an equivalent of a chuckle. _However, I would imagine that it will be quite peaceful. We phoenixes are simple creatures; we are content to help those who are in need of it and spend our lives with our life mate. For those who are more adventurous or bored, we will bond ourselves to a human for as long as they live, which is only around two hundred and fifty years in an average wizard. There are many things to see and learn in the human world, after all. Of course, we normally don't bond ourselves as deeply as you and I have. I imagine it will be very pleasant to spend the rest of my life with you as a friend, Harry._

    "Will you be with me forever?"

    _I will be here always, for as long as you want me to be. We are, after all, one creature now._

    "What will happen during your burning days?"

    _You will also experience something similar to a burning day, though nothing involving fire or regressing to your infancy. In the final days before the burning day, your body will suddenly grow older until I reach my burning day. It is in the period of ten days following our burning day that you will be at your weakest. Your body will return to the age you are at now and you will be magically weak for those ten days, though your body will recover in less than three days. This is why your body will search for a mate before our first burning day; your mate is responsible for protecting you as both of us will be unable to protect ourselves. My next burning day is within a year, but it is not necessary for me to find a mate yet as I am newly bonded to you, and before I was in the protection of my Clan._

    "What will you do when you find your life mate?"

    _I will need to leave periodically, but the space of a decade or so is but a blink of an eye in our lifetimes. And I will always be able to find you if you should need me._

    "I would like that, I think."

    Harry was laying spread-eagled on his bed a day after being told the prophecy, the warmth of the sun slanting across his body from the window easing his mind into a soft haze of pleasant curiosity and acceptance. Zephyr was settled near him on the bed, her long, soft tail feathers pooling near his head. They had been talking for hours about mostly inane things as Harry had tried to come to terms with the prophecies and accept them. Harry had gotten used to the overlapping nuances of thought, speech, and emotion that was present in the phoenix's "voice" and could now translate her words quite easily even before the English words translated themselves into his mind. In time, he hoped to be able to speak to her as well in his mind using her (or their, he supposed) language.

    "Tell me more about my life mate. What will she be like?"

    _The average phoenix's life mate is female to ensure reproduction, but since you are also human as well as phoenix, your mate may well be a male. They will be your savior, your companion, your friend, your lover. You will neither lust after nor love another person as deeply as you do them for as long as you both live; in fact, as you begin the search for your mate, your body will not bear the touch of another until you find them. Usually, your mate is someone you have previously met and interacted with, and strong emotions may tie you together, whether they be friendship or hate, though it is said that a partnership borne from hate is often the most passionate and deep kind of love._

    "What happens if they hated me before? They won't just suddenly change their minds, and I don't want a mate that only loves me because of some kind of spell or allure."

    _Oh, Harry, there is no spell or allure involved in a phoenix's mating process. As purely emotion-based creatures, we would not be able to accept such a false love. Just as if you had hated your mate before you became a phoenix, they will come to know you better as you both become closer, and you will naturally fall for each other. You still keep your minds and emotions, which is why mates who hated each other before being paired often take the longest to admit their feelings and accept each other's love, but it is also why such pairings are the most heated and passionate. The mating process is almost a battle of will and trust and suspicion_ , _testing each other's limits and uncovering each other's lies and secrets until everything is given up. Then comes the attraction and love when both realize that the other will neither mock nor betray them, thus creating the strongest of connections._

    "Sounds kind of violent and stressful, but romantic," Harry mused, blushing lightly when the phoenix trilled her laughter. "Well, you were the one going on about how strong and passionate the relationship is," he retorted. "I'd... kind of like a mate like that. Someone who would love me and protect me and trust me with all their heart... so that I could do the same." A question floated in the back of his mind as he said this, but he didn't voice it. 'Will I even survive long enough to experience any of that?'

    _The future is never certain, Harry, remember that. There will come the time when you will get exactly what you want; Fate is not always so cruel as to deny you forever._

    There was silence.

    "Tell me, when will I receive the abilities that you mentioned earlier? I want to begin training for my destiny as soon as possible. If I'm going to fight Voldemort in the end, I'm going to end it completely; I will not die without taking him with me." Harry vowed firmly, feeling his innate magic shift in response to his sheer determination.

    _You have already received all of your gifts, but many of them have become dormant in order to let you adjust to your magical core expanding and your senses enhancing; too much magic at once would kill you. As you become stronger and adjust, more abilities will make themselves known to you. Do not worry, Harry, you will be ready for Voldemort when the time comes._

    Harry hesitated a long moment before asking his next question. "What did the prophecy mean by the Phoenix Lord? Is that me?" The phoenix inclined her head gracefully.

    _You will be known by many different names in your lifetime, Harry. The Boy-Who-Lived is not all of who you are, and it is not all of who others will perceive you to be. The Phoenix Child, the Phoenix Lord, the Lord of Light, the Savior of the Wizarding World, the Speaker, Mage, Warlock, Elemental, and many others will be names you will be known by, and that is only in this generation. As the decades and millennia pass, you may find it necessary to become someone, or something, else. What the prophecy meant, however, is who you will become as you reach the majority of your abilities; when you gain access to your full power._

    Harry sighed when she finished; he didn't want to contemplate the future any longer. He had so little to look forward to at the moment that he couldn't imagine an eternity stretching before him without becoming depressed.

    "Well, I suppose I've been in here wallowing in self-pity long enough, don't you think?" He said lightly, reaching up to caress the downy feathers at the base of Zephyr's head with his fingertips. The phoenix cooed in agreement, snaking her sinewy neck around his arm to get him to scratch further along her neck. He smiled softly and allowed her to slip back into his body before he left the room, feeling a warm tickling sensation on his chest where Zephyr's tattoo had moved to accommodate his short sleeves. He moved down the stairs and into the kitchen, where dinner was being served.

    All movement paused when Harry stepped into the room and he glanced around the room with a quizzical expression. Tonks was staring at him open-mouthed while Sirius smirked and grinned and Remus smiled warmly at him.

    "What's wrong, Tonks, never seen the Boy-Who-Lived before, or are you just choking on Shacklebolt's cooking?" Harry asked innocently, ignoring Sirius' snort of laughter. Tonks' jaw snapped shut and she glared at both of them before sharing an evil grin with an indignant Shacklebolt.

    "Don't worry, Kingsley, we'll get 'em back soon enough. Oh, and I like the new voice Harry; let's just hope the rest of puberty catches up to you." She winked.

    "What are you talking about?" Harry asked slowly, trying to listen to his own voice. With a start, he noticed that it _had_ evened out to a smooth, light tenor with a melodic tone vaguely reminiscent of the phoenix song. He figured that either it was a side effect of bonding with Zephyr or he had gone through all stages of puberty in the past week. "I haven't- well, I mean... there must be some explanation. I mean, I haven't even had a growth spurt or, er, anything... like that..." He blushed up to his ears when Tonks burst into laughter and crossed his arms, pouting. He discreetly pulled his wand from his holster and pointed it in Tonks' direction and whispered a quick spell. Immediately, she stopped laughing, looking around in a bewildered fashion.

    "Hey, where'd you all go?"

    "Oh don't worry, Tonks, it should wear off within the hour. I'll just let you figure out what it does until then." Harry sent a small smile and a wink at his godfather and Remus, who were staring at him as if he had grown a second head (or, in Sirius' case, as if Christmas had come early).

    "What's this? Harry, why didn't you tell me you had Marauder potential?"

    "What, you didn't notice?" Harry joked with a sardonic grin, moving to grab a butterbeer from the fridge. "After all the trouble I get into year after year, _and_ going back in time to help you escape on a convicted hippogriff? I'm hurt, Padfoot."

    "That is just too bizarre," Remus said, shaking his head in amazement. "You sounded exactly like James just then... well, except for the sexy new voice, that is," he teased. Harry blanched, almost dropping his bottle.

    "I don't need to hear that from you!" He yelped. "You have a boyfriend, Remus, and you're not exactly my age." He added.

    "That's right, you should listen to the sexy-voiced kid, Remy; no hitting on him while I'm sitting right next to you."

    Just then, the door to the kitchen swung open and Dumbledore glided into the room, smiling gently at Harry when he saw him, but with a subdued twinkle in his eye. The room became slightly more tense. Harry felt bad about saying what he had, but that didn't make the feeling any less true.

    "Hey, why's it so quiet all the sudden?" Tonks asked loudly, looking around in confusion. "Did you all leave?" She jumped when Dumbledore spoke almost next to her.

    "No, I believe it is because I just arrived... and I believe I missed dinner as well. Ah, most unfortunate."

    "I haven't eaten either, Professor, I'll make something for the both of us, if you'd like." The offer slipped from Harry's mouth before he could stop it and he noticed everyone glancing at him in confusion. He had, after all, been having some rather heated confrontations with the Headmaster lately. He mentally shrugged. He didn't want to alienate Dumbledore; he was like a grandfather to him, despite the mistakes he had made. He was disappointed that the man wasn't as infallible as he'd thought, but what had he expected; the man was still human, after all. _Unlike me_. The thought drifted across his mind unbidden and he quickly stomped it down.

    Dumbledore looked a bit surprised, but pleased as well and responded cheerfully. "That sounds wonderful, my boy. What can I do to help?"

    "If you would make some tea, sir, that would be enough," Harry said politely, remembering how much Remus hated to see him do a lot of housekeeping by himself. "What would you like?"

    "For the last several months I have had a craving for a muggle 'grilled-cheese sandwich', but Poppy would never allow the house elves to serve me such a delightful dish. She seems to find it unhealthy." Harry stared a moment before snorting with laughter and turning to gather ingredients from the cupboards and fridge. The other the occupants of the room quickly made their excuses and vacated the kitchen dragging the still people-blind Tonks behind them, who seemed extremely tickled to be dragged from the room by an invisible force.

    Within minutes, the sandwiches were being cooked to a crispy light-brown perfection and Harry set a plate of them before the Headmaster, who took one up and began chewing it delightedly. "Ah, delicious," he sighed contentedly.

    "Thank you, sir, I had a lot of practice; it was one of Dudley's favorite snacks." Harry said, chuckling. There was a small space of silence in which Dumbledore's eyes dimmed a bit, but before he could apologize again, Harry spoke up. "Sir... I'm sorry about how emotional I've been lately. It's been a very hard summer, but that's no excuse for my shouting at you. You're like a grandfather to me, and I didn't like learning that you make mistakes just like everyone else." Harry was gratified to see that sparkle get just a bit brighter.

    "It's quite alright, my boy. It is one of the greatest burdens of being old; everyone seems to assume that you have all of the answers. But there are very many mistakes that I have made in my life, and the greatest ones seem to involve you most often. I cannot apologize enough for that."

    "There's nothing to apologize for, Professor," Harry said in an exasperated voice, but he smiled. "But I accept your apology anyway, if it makes you feel better." He paused for a long moment, gathering his thoughts. "Professor... a lot of things have changed since my birthday, and I think you saw one of those things last night."

    "I did indeed, Harry," Dumbledore said gravely. "And I believe it explains a great many things. Would you like Sirius and Remus to join us for this discussion?"

    Harry hesitated for a moment, but nodded firmly. "Yes, they have a right to know; they are practically my guardians, after all, though I want to keep it in between as few people as possible for the time being." The elderly wizard nodded in understanding and they collected Sirius and Remus before heading into one of the private studies on the ground floor. The two Marauders looked anxious and unsure if they could take another blow, but they readily sat on the couch in front of a fireplace as they waited for Harry to begin. For his part, Harry paced pensively for several long minutes and began to speak just as Sirius was beginning to fidget.

    "On the day after my birthday, Professor, you seemed a bit surprised that I hadn't had a vision showing what had happened to the Dursley's, and the truth is that I probably should have had a vision of some kind that night. The reason I didn't was because I was woken in the middle of the night by Zephyr."

    "Zephyr?" Sirius asked, confused, but Remus caught on quickly.

    "The phoenix?"

    Harry nodded, holding out his arm to the side and whistling a short note similar to an invitation in the phoenix language. It was his first try at the language, crude and nothing as smooth as he would eventually be able to produce with his voice in the future, but Zephyr responded immediately. The golden glow began on his chest, moving quickly to his arm where the phoenix burst forth and settled on his shoulder, watching the awed adults with an intelligent, assessing gaze.

    Harry then explained his relationship with the phoenix and ghosted over the results; a life mate that he would find soon, burning days, increased powers, and many phoenix abilities. By the time he was finished, they were nodding thoughtfully with satisfied, hopeful expressions. This, despite being unexpected, was very good news for the Light.

    "Well, this requires many changes in the year to come, though unfortunately, such changes will be difficult and possibly stressful to you, Harry. I will explain the circumstances to you later, but in general, this will be a very busy year for you, my boy."

    The black-haired boy nodded in understanding, his piercing green eyes as hard as emeralds with the strength of his determination. "I know," he said darkly.

    "There is something else that must be discussed before I must leave, Harry," Dumbledore said. "This has already been discussed in the Order meeting last night, and Sirius has already generously agreed to the arrangement. There is a student that will come here for the rest of the summer; he has sought asylum from me as the Headmaster to protect him from his father, who is a rather ardent supporter of Voldemort."

    "A Death Eater's son?" Harry asked sharply.

    The old wizard held up a calming hand. "Do not worry my boy, I have checked him thoroughly and he even submitted to Leglimancy; the art of reading someone's mind. For reasons he would like to keep between us, he has become thoroughly disgusted with his father and cannot remain there for the rest of summer in fear of being forced to take the Dark Mark. It was not his first choice to come to me or here to Grimmauld Place, but he is quite desperate and willing to be civil toward you and anyone in this house so long as he can remain here."

    "A Slytherin, then," Harry murmured to himself. After the summer he'd had, he found house rivalries to be both incredibly stupid and dangerous in times of war and he had no problem with being civil to a Slytherin. His hatred, if it was even that strong, lay with the marked Death Eaters and their willing children. He would find out soon enough if this Slytherin was telling the truth. He nodded decisively.

    "That's fine, I have no problem with someone else living in this house, if Sirius and Remus have already agreed to it..." he gave the two a questioning glance. Sirius was the last person he'd expected to be willing to house a Slytherin, but they were both nodding.

    "Albus convinced us," Sirius said with a grimace. "And besides, I should know what the kid is going through; my family nearly tore me apart when I got into Gryffindor. I don't totally trust him, though; he _is_ a Slytherin and he was put there for a reason, so I'll be watching him closely."

    "And besides, we can always have a second opinion," Harry said flippantly, pointing to Zephyr, who had perched herself on a chair near the window and was basking in the warmth, her pale feathers seeming to catch fire in the sunlight. Sirius' eyes brightened in approval and Dumbledore chuckled, standing up from his seat.

    "Very well, if there is nothing else..."

    "Wait, Headmaster-" Harry said anxiously, standing also. "What about my visions and Order meetings and training?"

    "I believe that we can trust this young man, but I will place a silencing charm on his bedroom (which is next to yours, I might add) that will only activate at night. It should be enough for two weeks. Also, I think you will find that our guest is not feeling particularly curious at the moment; his world is quite in a shambles, and he will not mind being excluded from training or Order meetings. He does not know why you are training, if that is what you are worried about, but he will probably think that you are just taking advantage of the opportunity to learn from such fine wizards."

    With that, he left through the fireplace with a cheerful goodbye and Harry was left with Remus and Sirius. He was prepared to just leave, but Remus stopped him.

    "Harry... you said something that night when we told you about the prophecy," he said hesitantly. "You know that we don't care that you're bonded with a phoenix, right? It's a great honor in the wizarding world to be chosen by a phoenix, and to be connected so deeply... We just wanted you to know that we don't care that you aren't fully human anymore; after all, I'm not human either, and your changes are much less... obvious and violent than mine."

    Harry sighed. "I know that... but it was just really hard for me to realize that I'm even more abnormal than I was before. All I've ever wanted was to be normal, and it hurts to think that I might have been at my most normal when I was back at the Dursley's, before Hogwarts. I didn't have to worry about anything back then except chores, Dudley's gang, and Uncle Vernon. I'm starting to think that he was actually -" He cut himself off before he could finish the sentence. _...right about me..._

    "Never mind, it doesn't matter anymore." He said firmly when the two adults opened their mouths to protest. "I'm dealing with it, and I'll be fine when I get back to school. Now come on, don't we have to clean up this guy's room before he shows up?"

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Draco appears.

     _"Luciuss, what's this I hear about your most promising son leaving your home before he could receive the Dark Mark?"_

     _Harry winced and held a hand up to his head in pain as he became aware of a dark throne room, Voldemort's dangerous, sibilant hiss, and Lucius Malfoy lying prostrate on the floor before him. Voldemort's anger was pulsing through him like a virus and he gripped his forehead tighter in response._

     _"My Lord, the brat had happened upon me cursing Narcissa for her impertinence and he was quite... upset at the experience. No doubt he's off to sulk somewhere before he returns to school." Harry had a sneaking suspicion of where Draco would be and winced in sympathy. Seeing your father cursing your mother in the Dark Lord's name would certainly be life-changing._

     _"I see... and how is dear Narcissa?" He asked in a deceptively idle tone, fingering his wand with his long, white fingers. Malfoy relaxed slightly and didn't seem to realize that it was merely a distraction as Voldemort contemplated which curses to use on him for alienating such a promising young Death Eater._

     _"She has gone to visit a friend in Paris for a month or two, My Lord." He said disdainfully. "She does this occasionally, but she always returns in the end."_

     _However, Voldemort's patience seemed to have run out and Harry's screams went unheard as the_ Crucio _hit the elder Malfoy with the force of a train. He held it for several seconds before releasing it. "I don't care about your foolish chit of a wife, Luciusss! I want your son to have the Dark Mark before this time next year, and if you know what's good for you, you'll keep him close..."_

     _"M-master, I thought you d-didn't want to risk the children being caught by having the Mark on their arms..." Malfoy said daringly, with the proper amount of respect and meekness in his voice, but Voldemort was beyond placating and his fury sent a spike of pain lancing into Harry's brain. Harry cursed the foolish aristocrat, gritting his teeth against the pain._

     _"You dare question me, Malfoy?" The Dark Lord whispered in an icy calm voice. Malfoy Sr. froze, finally recognizing the danger, and tried to protest, but Voldemort would have none of it. "_ Incendio Sangris!" He hissed.

     _Harry writhed in anguish. It felt like the blood in his body was boiling, burning its way through his body and making his breath hitch in pain. It hurt to breath, to think, to even imagine moving, and all he wanted was to tear open his skin to let the burning liquid drain out of his body. After a minute that felt like eternity, Voldemort lifted the curse and strode slowly around the trembling, gasping form of his follower like a predator playing with its prey._

     _"Not that you are worthy of knowing, Luciuss, but there are many different ways to Mark a follower, and many other places to Mark besides their arm..."_

* * *

 

   Harry was abruptly pulled from the vision as fog clouded his sight and he became aware of his body once more. His body was aching and shaking violently as he pulled from Sirius' relieved embrace and leaned back against the pillows of his bed, running a hand through his sweaty hair. He motioned to his throat and he felt the tingle of magic as someone removed the silencing charm. He cleared his throat and coughed when he nearly choked on a bit of fabric. Spitting it out, he saw that it was a wad of someone's sleeve.

    "What's this?" He asked hoarsely, holding it up. Remus looked sheepish, holding up his arm to show a large part of his sleeve torn off.

    "You were about to bite through your lip because you were gritting your teeth so hard, so I made you bite into my sleeve. I didn't expect for you to tear it off when you got hit by another curse." He sobered, watching him worriedly. "How do you feel? You weren't screaming so badly tonight, and it didn't last longer than half an hour."

    "Is that all? It felt like an eternity." Harry said dryly. "I may be getting used to it. Got a new curse today, I think Voldemort invented it," he added, ignoring the horrified expressions this earned him. Instead he leaned over to his nightstand and opened the drawer, quickly grabbing the parchment and Ever-Full Quill for his visions. Quickly, he described the throne room, Voldemort's emotions, and copied down the entire conversation word-for-word in his slightly shaky hand. After the part where Voldemort cast the Blood Boiling curse, he described its effects off to the side and added that he didn't recognize it.

    Finally, he finished and added his observations and insights at the bottom before sealing it and, coaxing Zephyr from his body reluctantly, gave her the letter and convinced her to take it to Dumbledore immediately. She had wanted to stay and help comfort and heal him, but knowing how important it was, left immediately. She was back within a minute, not waiting for the Headmaster's answer in her haste, and she settled near his head to croon to him gently.

    Harry quickly downed the post-Cruciatus and other healing potions and lay back in his bed, exhausted. Harry reassured his godfather and Remus, who were the only ones in the room tonight (the other Order members tended to cast silencing charms on their rooms at night now, though they felt bad about it, but they needed their sleep to go back to work in the mornings), that he was fine but allowed them to stay with him, silently leaning against each other and alternately running their hands through his hair as he fell back to sleep.

    He woke slowly, the warmth of the sun slanting across the bed feeling like heaven to the now-familiar aching in his muscles. Opening his eyes, Harry wasn't surprised to see that it was still early in the morning, he always woke early after a vision, but he was surprised to see Sirius and Remus gone. Then he remembered that Draco Malfoy (he was nearly certain of that by now) would be arriving this morning and they were no doubt readying the house for him.

    Carefully, he sat up and slid off of the bed, shivering when his bare feet touched the cold wood, and he slowly made his way to the bathroom. In the shower, he deeply breathed in the warm, scented air and felt his body relax under the warm spray, the droplets gently massaging the stiffness away from his sore muscles. He tried not to think too much about the vision as he dried off and pulled on the same stone-washed jeans he had worn on his birthday and slipped on a tight white tank top, buttoning up a black shirt over it. Rolling up the sleeves and buttoning them in place, he shackled the watch with the wide, stitched leather band Tonks had given him on his wrist and pulled a string of black and white wooden beads onto his other wrist to cover up the scars from the handcuffs. Finally, he put on his wrist holster and ran a hand through his dripping hair, making it stick up and flop over his eyes, before heading down the stairs.

    Hearing Sirius and Remus teasing each other in the living room about something that made him blush, Harry hastily took a different direction and headed to the kitchen. Opening it, he saw that it was blissfully empty (the other Order members must have left already) and he quickly got to work making breakfast for four. Omelettes, potatoes and muffins were quickly made and put under a heating charm while he made tea and juice to put on with some fresh fruit. He was just putting the finishing touches on setting the table when he heard several people approaching the kitchen.

    "...was asleep when we woke up, but it smells like he's awake now," Remus was saying to the person behind him as he pushed the door open and smiled at Harry. "Ah, good morning, Harry. I was just telling our guest more about the house when Sirius smelled breakfast cooking and insisted that we come to eat before showing him around."

    Harry nodded, smiling. "What did you expect? Sirius is always starving." He heard Sirius make some indignant remark, but he ignored it as Remus stepped away from the door and Draco Malfoy came into view. He felt a strange emotion well up in his body, something strong and heated like hate, but he stomped it down, letting his eyes flicker over Malfoy appraisingly. He was as impeccably dressed as usual in slacks, shined shoes, and a light grey sweater that brought out his eyes. Harry couldn't help but notice that he had grown a few inches taller, making him taller than Harry, and his slender form had lost some of its sharp angles as he grew into the beautiful aristocrat that Malfoy's were required to be. His face had softened at the edges and his molten grey eyes were carefully shielded but shrewd as his eyes darted around the room and over Harry's features, taking in everything but revealing nothing. His fine silvery-blonde hair was missing it's gelled look and Harry found himself appreciating the way the bangs framed his face...

    Draco was studying the Boy-Who-Lived just as closely as he was studying him, noting that the Boy Who Lived didn't look surprised or angry to see him. Then again, Draco himself hadn't felt much anger when he saw Potter, either. In fact, his breath had almost - dare he say it - _hitched_ when he saw the other boy. Potter seemed to have lost weight again over the summer, as Draco had noticed he tended to do, and he had not grown an inch since school ended, much to Draco's pleasure and to Potter's annoyance, if that flash in his penetrating green eyes was any indication. However, like him, Potter had grown some rather soft, feminine curves to his hips and arse, as those sinfully snug jeans revealed. What Draco had noticed first was the lack of the misshapen tents of cloth that Potter normally drowned in; now replaced with tasteful, attractive clothing. Apparently, someone with some fashion sense had finally taken it upon themselves to make sure the savior of the wizarding world was properly dressed and had gotten rid of those awful glasses. The next thing he had noticed was Potter's voice, which had become as smooth and melodic as a musician's, and Draco reigned in his thoughts as they started wandering to what Potter would sound like in the throes of passion, panting and moaning and whispering his name huskily into the night...

    Both boys completed their observations within seconds and Harry smiled sardonically, sweeping a hand at the table. "Malfoy, care to join us?" Malfoy smirked at the irony and nodded with an otherwise blank expression.

    "Thanks, Potter, I believe I will."

    The tension in the room eased a bit and they all sat at the table. After everyone served themselves, Harry tried to get a conversation going.

    "Remus, are you going to be leaving today for work?"

    "Yes, there's some follow-up work I have to do before my assignment is over, but I should be home for the next few days."

    "That reminds me!" Sirius said excitedly, dropping his fork with a clang. "I've been given an assignment, finally! I leave in a few days and I'll only be gone for a day or so, but it's still better than sitting around here all day. Don't get me wrong, cub, I love you, but I've been cooped up in this house for way too long."

    "That's great, Sirius!" Harry said, smiling at his godfather's enthusiasm. "Are you sure you'll be safe though? Everyone's still out on the look for you."

    He waved the concern aside, beaming. "Don't worry about it, I'll be in disguise and people won't even look twice at me." Harry looked unconvinced, but let it go at his obvious excitement. He _had_ been stuck in this house doing nothing for about a year; if Harry was him he would want to leave at any opportunity, too.

    "Ok, if you're sure. Just be careful." Harry turned to the silent Malfoy. "By the way, why haven't you been screaming in fear with a convicted mass murderer in the room?" The pale boy sniffed.

    "First of all, Potter, Malfoy's don't scream in fear," he said stiffly, his sneer markedly lacking its usual bite. "And second of all, my father has gloated enough about the whole mess that sniveling rat Pettigrew had somehow managed to pull off for me to know that Black didn't really kill all those people."

    "Ah, of course..." Harry said, rolling his eyes. Malfoy sneered and looked around.

    "Where's your house elf, Potter? Am I supposed to fill my cup myself?"

    "We don't have a house elf here, Malfoy," Harry responded, since Sirius and Remus seemed content to let him handle Malfoy on his own, if their grins were any indication. "We don't find it too difficult to use our wands or muscles once in a while. I'm afraid you'll have to pour your own juice and make your own bed while you're here."

    "Make my own bed? I won't be able to survive!" Malfoy said with mock horror and a roll of the eyes, making Sirius snort. "Well, who made your food then? Only house elves make it this good."

    Harry smirked at that, ignoring his godparents stiffening in offense. "That would be me. I make all of the meals here since all the Order members are rubbish in the kitchen."

    " _You_ , Harry Potter, Golden Boy of the wizarding world, _made_ this with your own hands?" Malfoy exclaimed, looking down at his empty plate with a kind of horrified fascination. "Should I have had it tested for poisons?"

    "I don't think so, Malfoy," Harry said in amusement before putting on his best superior tone. "After all, such things as house rivalries are far below me; I wouldn't waste my poisons on the likes of you." He topped this off with a patented Malfoy© smirk and was rewarded with Malfoy looking stunned before the mask fell back into place.

    "That smirk doesn't look good on you, Potter," he sneered with something that almost looked close to a smile. "You should stick with your innocent, happy grins and leave the sophisticated humor to those suited to it."

    Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course, Malfoy. Oh, and thank you for the compliment, by the way."

    "That wasn't a compliment, Potter. I compared you to a house elf, in case you didn't notice."

    "Alright boys, that's enough." Remus broke in as Harry was opening his mouth to retort and Malfoy smirked at him. Harry resisted the urge to stick his tongue back at him and got up to start clearing away the dishes. Malfoy looked surprised and a bit disdainful when Harry picked up his plate, and this time Harry actually did stick out his tongue. Sirius got up and stretched before calling over to Malfoy.

    "Come on, kid, I'll show you your room." Malfoy got up gracefully and brushed himself down, watching as Remus moved to intercept Harry and talk in low tones to him. Malfoy lingered curiously, trying to listen in, and managed to catch a few phrases before being ushered from the room.

    "...know we let you cook the meals because you cook better than all of us, but we've talked about this before. You're not _there_ anymore; you don't need to do all of the manual labor. We have wands for that, Harry! Malfoy was right, you _were_ a house elf there, but you don't have to be here."

    "Remus, we've gone over this again and again; I _don't mind_ cleaning up! It doesn't remind me of the Dursley's anymore..."

    After a few more minutes, Harry sighed and gave up trying to convince the stubborn werewolf, instead just casting the charm to start the dishes cleaning themselves and leaving the room. He followed Sirius and Malfoy up to his room, pausing to lean on the doorway and look in. It was a nearly identical mirror to his own room, complete with green sheets and bathroom across from the bed.

    Malfoy was examining the bed and apparently approved, for he said stiffly. "It will do. Thank you for letting me stay in your home, Black."

    "It's not a problem; I've been where you are, after all."

    "I see..."

    "Lucky you, Malfoy," Harry said cheerfully, taking a step inside the room. "You've got the room right next to mine."

    "You better not snore, Potter." Malfoy said disdainfully, eying the Gryffindor as if he were something he'd found on the bottom of his shoe.

    "I truly doubt it, but don't worry, you won't hear a thing." He smirked and Sirius sent him a warning glance as Malfoy stiffened.

    "And what's that supposed to mean?"

    "Well, _I'm_ putting up a silencing charm on my room so that I don't have to hear _your_ snores."

    Malfoy sniffed, looking properly offended, but also the smallest bit of a smile was playing about his lips. Harry had managed to surprise him a bit, and that made him inordinately pleased. "Please, you could hardly do that when you're underage. Or didn't you know about that, Potter?"

    "As a matter of fact, I _did_ know that, Malfoy. Did _you_ know that this house is unplottable under the Fidelius Charm and magic can't be detected here?"

    "Oh, really?" Malfoy drawled, looking interested as he fingered his wand.

    "Don't even think about it," Harry said with a scowl, though the slightest of twitches turned his mouth upward. He could hardly believe it. He was _bantering_ with Draco Malfoy, and enjoying every minute of it. The Slytherin seemed amused as well, if the glint in his grey eyes was anything to go by.

    "Right, well, I'm sure you could take him even if he tried, Harry," Sirius said on his way out the door. "I need to see Remus off; have fun, kids." Harry winced at the lusty look in his godfather's eyes and returned his gaze to Malfoy, who had a mix of amusement and disgust on his face.

    "Do I even want to know what kind of lewd acts his 'goodbye' would entail?"

    Harry grimaced. "Probably not. Remus is our former professor, and, well, they're old enough to be our parents."

    "What's Black to you, anyway? He acts like he's your father." Harry snorted.

    "Sirius, a father? I can't imagine that. He's my godfather, though I only met him a year or so ago when I thought he had betrayed my parents and murdered all those people."

    "And you don't mind that he's shagging our old professor?" Malfoy persisted, looking somewhat interested.

    "No, I don't, though you didn't have to put it that way," Harry grimaced again. "It was a bit of a surprise at first, of course, but they really seem to care for each other. Why, is homosexuality not accepted in the wizarding world?"

    "Hardly," Malfoy snorted. "This isn't the muggle world, Potter, even if there are some prudes who disapprove. It's sort of a taboo topic to talk about in civilized company, but people don't really care who you're with since you can magically adopt a child, which is just as good as bearing a child."

    "Really?" Harry asked incredulously, and Malfoy smirked at his naivety.

    "Really, Potter. Why, you interested?" He asked with a leer, raking his eyes over the Gryffindor's slender form. Harry blushed lightly.

    "No! Well, I don't think so," he admitted, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. "I like girls, but I've never really thought about boys all that much, either."

    "Well, there's hope for you yet. With my help, we can get you playing for our team in no time."

    "You're gay?" Harry's surprised expression slowly changed to one of thoughtfulness. "Actually, I'm not that surprised..."

    "I'll have you know that not all gays are flamboyant and girly, Potter. That's a common stereotype. I just happen to care about my appearance; I am a Malfoy, after all," Malfoy huffed with an affronted expression.

    "Of course, how could I forget," Harry said sarcastically. "You're only reminding me every other sentence. I thought I heard something about you shagging all of the girls in school on the Astronomy Tower, though. Quite the player, are you Malfoy?"

    The Slytherin scoffed, looking disdainful. "You of all people should know about rumors, Potter. Can I help it if they all want to get into my trousers? Of course, I may have sampled a few of the prettier ones (I had to figure out that I was gay somehow), but I definitely prefer the bits that girls don't have." By this time, Harry blush appeared to be permanent, and Malfoy watched him fidget uncomfortably on the verge of saying something before he spoke again. "But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you Potter? I'll bet all the galleons in the Malfoy vault that you're still a virgin."

    He immediately knew _that_ had struck a chord with the Gryffindor when he stiffened.

    "What of it?" Harry snapped, eyes flashing like emeralds. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to wait for the perfect person. Just because I don't shag everything that moves doesn't mean that you're any better than I am. You're a fool if you think that throwing away something as special as your first time to some chit looking for a quick fix is a good thing."

    "Don't act like you know me, Potter, because you don't," Malfoy hissed, suddenly defensive. "I've told you that the rumors are just that; rumors. And Merlin knows why I'm telling you this, but I never had to throw away my first time to some whore to find out that I was gay. I've seemed to have gotten this silly notion in my head that my first time should be special, with someone I care about, and I'm not going to give it up just to satisfy my hormones."

    A tense silence fell on the room as they stood facing each other, watching for the other's reaction. Harry's shoulders slumped and he stared at the floor for a moment before raising warm green eyes to Malfoy's guarded ones.

    "That's not silly, Malfoy," he said softly. "Saving yourself for someone you love is never silly."

    His shoulders slumped as well, then raised into a shrug. "It can be, with a family and a life like mine during a war." He replied, equally quiet. There was silence once more as they both contemplated that statement. Before Harry could speak again, Sirius came bounding past the open bedroom door on his way to Harry's room, calling out as he went:

    "Harry, where'd you put that doxy repellent? I think me and Remy found some we missed under the couch in the living room!"

    Harry blanched and Malfoy shuddered. "I don't want to know," they said at the same time, and looked at each other in surprise before a small grin spread across Harry's face. As he was just turning to leave the room, he was stopped by Malfoy's voice.

    "Potter, if you ever mention this conversation to anyone else, I'll hex you into next week _and_ tell everyone that you're a virgin during the Welcoming Feast. And they won't believe you if you try to tell them that _I'm_ a virgin."

    "Don't worry, Malfoy, I don't have any intention of telling anyone about this conversation. They wouldn't believe it anyway; Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy having a civil conversation about _anything_ , much less about sex? The wizarding world would have a heart attack before they even hear that we're both virgins."

   

* * *

 

    A few days passed quietly where Malfoy either stayed in his room or studied in the library, and though they didn't have any other conversations like before, the two students remained civil and bantered often, both receiving some unexpected pleasure from pitting their wits against each other. Needless to say, Malfoy usually won by resorting to mentioning lewd acts that he could do to rid Harry of his virginity, causing Harry to become so flustered and flushed that he usually gave up speaking and just left the room in a huff. This seemed to be Malfoy's favorite reaction.

    It seemed that the excitement of finally getting to leave the house had inspired Sirius to sharpen up his rusty dueling skills and he cheerfully enlisted Harry to be his dummy. Harry didn't really mind since he was up for more learning, but he was surprised when he actually won the first duel somewhat easily. Sirius seemed to be surprised as well, staring at his empty hand incredulously before shrugging his shoulders and breaking into a rueful smile.

    "That's what fourteen years of sitting in some kind of cell or another does to the body. I can't move as fast as I used to and my magic's a little rusty, but I'll be back to beating your arse in no time, Potter."

    Despite his easy manner, however, in the following duels he became somewhat ruthless, protecting his newly-discovered weaknesses and emphasizing Harry's own in a way that had Harry doing acrobatics across the wide training hall just to avoid his rapid-fire spells. Time lost meaning and their attention was focused only on each other as they dueled back and forth.

    " _Expelliarmus!_ " Harry snapped, nearly upside-down as he rolled to avoid Sirius' stunner, but his aim was impeccable and he soon had the animagus' wand in hand. Just as he was standing, however, he had to jump back to avoid another spell and he looked up to see Sirius holding another wand he had pulled from somewhere.

    "Let's liven this up a bit, shall we?" He panted. "Free-for-all, nothing Dark. Go!"

    Harry immediately switched Sirius' wand to his left hand and began casting; he had, after all, said it was a free-for-all, and Harry was going to use every advantage he had. As he began casting dual spells at once (much like his experience at his birthday party), Harry again felt his magic rising in his body, shimmering just beneath the surface, eager to be bent to his will. He held nothing back as he completely fell into an instinctual mindset, feeling some resistance as he used Sirius' wand, but ignoring it and just blasting his spells past it roughly. Oddly, Sirius seemed to be doing better than he had been, but Harry handled the change easily.

    At the side of the training hall, Draco was watching with unabashed awe as Potter and Black dueled like professional Aurors, trading spells faster than the eye could follow, dodging and rolling as if they were in the heat of a battlefield. It was nothing like he had seen before, either in the gentlemanly duels that his father held occasionally (duels filled with dramatic spins and poses as spells were cast lazily), or the supervised duels in school (clumsy students taking turns casting spells).

    This was beautiful, an art.

    Potter flowed seamlessly from one movement and action to another as if he was born to duel, bringing to mind a stalking predator in his strength and power. Oh, and what power! Draco imagined that he could feel the magical static in the air from the doorway with the power that Potter was throwing behind his spells, the bolts of light exploding from his wand like they had minds of their own, blasting across space and pounding into the walls and floors when they missed. When they didn't, Draco could see Black getting thrown back with the force of the spell, his breath whooshing out and his face clenching in pain that wasn't entirely from the pain of the hex. Potter was saying the incantations so fast that it was hard to tell which spells were being used, but there were some that Draco knew weren't in any of the books they studied from at Hogwarts, and some he didn't even recognize; Auror-level spells.

    He was so absorbed by watching the duel that Draco started when a voice spoke next to him.

    "You've arrived then, Malfoy?" Draco glanced at the grizzled former professor and the large black man next to him in surprise, but managed to keep his expression cool and vacant.

    "It would appear so, Professor."

    "I'm no professor of yours, boy. Had to duel Potter into the wall to get him to stop calling me that." Both of the Auror's eyes fixed on the scene in front of the them and they watched silently for a few minutes. Finally, the Auror grunted in what could have been approval. "That was good, didn't teach him that one. How long have they been going?"

    "They had been going for about five minutes before I showed up ten minutes ago. Non-stop."

    "And they're still dueling like that?" The black man rumbled, incredulity in his tone as he murmured to the older man, "Alastor, we never got him going that long at this tempo. What changed?"

    "They were slowing down about five minutes ago, but then Potter got Black's wand and Black pulled out a second wand. New rules, free-for-all, nothing Dark, and they've been going at it like this ever since." Draco said helpfully. There was silence for a long moment before the grizzled old Auror snapped his fingers suddenly.

    "Black's second wand is his original one," Moody grunted in understanding. "He was using his second wand to duel Potter at first, one that wasn't as attuned to him. Clever trick to keep opponents underestimating him. That's why he's been able to keep up with Potter so far, but he's slowing down fast."

    "And Potter'll drain his core if he keeps doubling up on those spells," the black man observed. "At the rate he's going, his magic will give out before his body does."

    Before anyone could respond, however, a brilliant golden dome of light erupted in the center of the training hall as Black cast a _Reducto Maximus_ at the floor just in front of Potter. Potter ducked his head and his arms went up in a defensive cross in front of him, his clothes and hair whipping around him in a non-existent wind as the shield snapped up around him. The wide beam of light struck the shield, which acted as a kind of boulder in a river of water in the way that the spell overlapped it and the ground surrounding it was torn into shambles. When the dust cleared, Potter's shield was gone but his clothes continued to float in that eerie way and his eyes appeared to be... glowing?

    No one got much more than a glimpse before Potter raised his wand and slashed it down wordlessly, creating a brilliant white scythe of power that arched toward Black, tearing up the ground as it went. Black tried to raise a shield, but the spell tore through it like paper and then the convict was thrown back into the wall with a sharp thud. And just like that, the duel was over.

    "We definitely didn't teach him that one," Moody said, his real eye wide as his magical one darted around to take in the damage of the room.

    "I don't think anyone did," the black man agreed.

    "Trust Potter to ignore all the laws of magic and do the impossible," Draco grumbled, though his eyes were still wide as he watched Potter stagger and drop to the floor in a faint.

* * *

 

    Harry woke not long after, feeling strangely content as he burrowed into the soft warmth of the person that was carrying him. His body was exhausted and his muscles throbbed in protest of any movement, but he ignored it all in favor of breathing in the clean, spicy scent of whoever-it-was.

    "Damn Mad-Eye, making me carry Potter to his bed like some blushing bride, just because he was an idiot and used too much power. At least Potter makes it easy for me; my trunk weighs more than he does."

    In some distant part of his mind not busy reveling in the arms around him, Harry thought that he should be insulted or annoyed, or at the very least horrified with the thought of Malfoy carrying him in his arms up to his bedroom, but at the moment a soft, pleasurable fog was drifting through his mind and he really didn't care. Instead, he sighed and buried his face in Malfoy's chest, feeling the blonde stiffen as his breath warmed the area above his rapidly-beating heart.

    "Potter, are you awake?" Draco asked, pausing, but Potter didn't answer and the blonde continued grumbling until they reached Potter's bedroom and he settled the green-eyed boy on the bed. Or, at least, he tried to. Potter had gotten a death grip on the front of Draco's shirt and apparently he was not planning on letting go. A soft mewl escaped his full, utterly kissable lips and his eyebrows lowered in distress as Draco tried to pull away, and he tugged on the shirt insistently. Draco tried not to think about how much that sound turned him on and instead concentrated on leaning down to get a hold on Potter's hands and wrest them from his shirt.

    All thought fled, however, when he felt a pair of unbelievably soft lips drift over his jaw and attach themselves to his neck, suckling gently down to the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Potter's warm breath ghosted over his skin, making him shudder. 

    "Not yet," he murmured. "You taste good..." Draco's mind spun as Potter's hands loosened and began moving over his chest, massaging gently. The only thoughts in his mind were that draining his core must have addled Potter's mind, and that for a virgin, Potter was able to do amazing things to his neck with his lips.

    "Potter," Draco growled with a harsh rasp in his voice, "you'd better not be pulling some sick prank on me because you found out I was gay." His tone seemed to finally get through the haze in Potter's mind just as he was running his soft, slightly rough tongue in a quick lick up to his ear, and the Gryffindor paused. Draco had to stifle a groan as Potter pulled away, his green eyes gaining a bit more awareness and his eyebrows curling up in confusion.

    "Malfoy? What...?" Harry suddenly realized that he was sitting up in his bed and his hands were practically groping Malfoy's chest and he leapt back with a yelp, almost falling off of the bed. His face filled with color almost instantly when he remembered what he had been doing to the blonde's neck and he stuttered in panic and embarrassment. "Oh God! Merlin, Malfoy, I-I'm sorry! I-I didn't realize... I don't know what I was thinking, I'm so sorry!"

    Malfoy's eyes glittered with amusement and he smirked. "Don't worry about it, Potter, I'm not complaining; it was quite enjoyable while it lasted. Besides, it's the burden of being completely irresistible."

    Harry was too flustered to think of a retort, instead dropping his burning face into his hands with a groaned, "Merlin..."

    "I guess the question about whether you're bi has been answered," Malfoy said flippantly.

    "Malfoy, shut up," Harry moaned, flopping back onto his back. "What happened?"

    "You mean before you started assaulting me with your tongue and whispering naughty things in my ear?"

    "Malfoy!"

    "Alright, alright, don't get your knickers in a twist. You were dueling Black like it was a fight to the death and you won when you threw him into a wall using some rather impressive magic that you - or anyone else for that matter - shouldn't be able to do."

    Harry gasped and sat up again. "Sirius! Is he alright? I can't believe I did that to him!"

    "He should be fine, that's what magic is for," Malfoy said with an airy wave of his hand. "Merlin, Potter, you sure do know how to entertain a guest."

    Harry ignored him and stood up, swaying a little but ignoring it in favor of side-stepping Malfoy and heading down the hallway to Sirius' room. Seeing it was empty, he turned, nearly running into Malfoy again, and went down the stairs to the training hall. Seeing the torn-up floors and scarred walls, Harry winced and looked around, but couldn't see any sign of Sirius.

    "He's over here, Potter," Malfoy called from the entrance-way, and Harry rushed over to one of the sitting rooms nearby, where Sirius was laying on a transfigured bed. Moody and Shacklebolt had apparently called Madame Pomfrey, who was hovering over Sirius' still form, and they were now standing off to the side. He thanked the blonde quickly and hurried to Sirius' side, nodding a greeting to the two Aurors.

    "How is he?" He asked Poppy anxiously.

    "Mr. Potter! What are you doing up out of bed already? Sit down right now and don't interrupt!" She shrieked and Harry sat, waiting impatiently while she bustled around the bed. Finally, she stopped and sighed, pushing some hair out of her face.

    "Poppy, is he ok?" Harry asked.

    "He'll be fine, Harry, he just had a few cracked bones and torn muscles that were easily healed. He needs to rest for the rest of the day, though, and so should you! Kids these days, tearing up rooms in duels and fainting from magical exhaustion, Merlin only knows how you're even awake! Hold still while I check you." Harry relaxed, content that Sirius would be fine, and allowed Poppy to cast a few diagnostic tests and heal a few of his scrapes and bruises.

    "Your magic levels are abnormally low, but they appear to be gaining strength quite rapidly," she reported a moment later in amazement. "You should be fine, but I want you to take it easy for the rest of the day so that your muscles can have a chance to recover." She shook her head. "You never cease to amaze me, Harry, but I thought I told you that I didn't want to see you until school started again."

    "But I just needed to see you again to thank you for your wonderful birthday gift," he said innocently. "I couldn't get a hold of you, so I figured..."  
    "Oh, you!" She scolded, slapping his knee lightly. She sobered. "How are you, Harry? I see you've been gaining weight; almost fifteen pounds."  
    "Well, that's not a very nice thing to say," Harry chuckled. "Sirius and Remus have been forcing your nourishment potions down my throat at every meal and just being here with them has helped more than I thought possible. I don't take the Dreamless Sleep very often because it doesn't really work sometimes, but I've been sleeping a bit better."  
    "You certainly look better," she said with some satisfaction, "but I heard what happened on your birthday. Are you relieved?"  
    Harry shook his head. "No. How can I feel relieved when everyone on the street died because of me? And the Dursley's were forced to move and leave their home and jobs - how can I be relieved about that? But... A part of me is glad not to have to deal with them anymore, though."

    "As you should be, Harry," she said fiercely. He shot her a warning glance and looked over his shoulder, but it seemed that Malfoy had gone somewhere else for the moment. He shook his head and stood up, looking down at his godfather worriedly for a moment.

    "Thanks for everything, Poppy, I think I'll go lie down now," he said, feeling tired all of the sudden, and turned to leave the room. He had wandered up the stairs and almost back up to his room before he was stopped by Moody.

    "Wait, Potter," he grunted, limping over to him and pulling a wand from his pocket. Harry tensed, expecting an attack, but Moody waved him off and just held it up. "This was Black's secondary wand. Most Aurors buy another wand that is less attuned to them but workable just in case their original wand is lost or broken in a fight. For some reason, Black started your duel with his secondary wand and just switched to his original wand when you disarmed him. But then you ended up using his secondary as a dual wand in the second half of your duel."

    Shacklebolt picked up where he left off. "Normally, wizards feel so uncomfortable with a second wand, even if it is closely matched with them, that they only use it in an emergency if they get one at all. Some people are so unmatched with a wand that it won't even work for them, so Aurors are instructed to just pocket an enemy's wand if they get it instead of trying to use it as a secondary in battle."

    "The point is," Moody broke in, "you shouldn't have been able to get Black's secondary wand to work for you at all, but you were casting spells with it like it was your own, and they were just as powerful as anything you cast with your original wand. Even people with two wands that are attuned to them usually have to split up the power of their spells to be able to cast two different spells at the same time through two different wands since it takes so much concentration to fight with two wands."

    Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense. When I was casting spells with Sirius' wand, I could feel some sort of resistance, but I kind of ignored it and just forced my magic through it. Sort of like overriding the blocking mechanism to make it work." He looked a little sheepish. "I probably shouldn't have done that, but I wasn't really thinking, I just did what made sense at the time. Just like feeling my magic and knowing how to direct it to do what I want it to do, and knowing how to perform spells I've only read about. I thought that all wizards had that kind of connection with their magic." He shrugged uncomfortably.

    "Yeah, well, because of your 'connection' with your magic, Black needs to get a new secondary wand." Moody grunted, pointing to the wand in his hand. "See that? When you forced your magic through a core that wasn't attuned to you, you fried the core and cracked the base right through the middle. By the end of the duel, you were casting spells with a hollow stick instead of a wand and that means the incantations were pretty much useless. What you were doing was pure wandless magic."

    Harry gaped and took the wand from Moody with numb fingers, squinting to look at the deep, blackened crack at the base. "Er... isn't that supposed to be impossible?" He asked hesitantly. Shacklebolt boomed with laughter and slapped Moody on the back, making the Auror stumble forward on his peg leg and growl at him.

    "Now he asks! The problem with you, Harry, is that you have a tendency to break rules you have no idea about. Wandless or wordless magic isn't impossible, but you usually have to be very powerful and very focused. I've only seen Dumbledore do either or both at the same time, and even then he only did small things like lighting a candle or closing a door. No, it's not impossible, but the level _you're_ doing it at should be."

    "Don't tell me that," Harry groaned, dropping his face into his hands. "I hear that way too often."

    "We're going to have to talk to Dumbledore about this," Moody growled. "This part of your training is too advanced for us, but it's too crucial to ignore. Dumbledore will be able to tell us about wandless training exercises we can add to your regular training." Harry sighed but nodded reluctantly.

    "I understand. It does seem to be helpful, but I think that I'll need some kind of focus at first to be able to get it to work, like Sirius' wand. I never actually used the wand, but it gave me the focus to direct the magic specifically and accurately to do exactly what I wanted."

    Shacklebolt nodded. "We'll mention that to Albus as well. Don't worry, you'll have plenty of work to do tomorrow for our next training session." Harry made a face.  

    "Great. Thanks so much." He said sarcastically. He returned to his room, grumbling about crazed Aurors and senile old Headmasters. He flopped back on his bed, causing his shirt to flutter open and his tank top to ride up on his flat stomach. He sorted through the information he had just learned, deciding that what the Aurors had told him explained a lot of things that coincided with the powers Zephyr had told him about. Now all that was left was his body starting to search for his mate.

    His mind drifted to those few heated moments with Malfoy after he had woken up from the duel. He hadn't really been thinking clearly at the time, but it had felt so _right_ to be so close to the blonde, to smell his scent and taste his soft skin. It felt like he belonged there, like he was _supposed_ to be there, and Malfoy hadn't seemed to object to it too much either. Harry's breath became slightly heavier as he thought of the warm flush on the Slytherin's pale cheeks, the heated passion in his gaze, and the firmness of his warm body against his... Harry tried to stop thinking right there as he felt his body starting to respond to his thoughts.

    There was a knock on the door. Harry started in surprise and glanced down, seeing that there wasn't much evidence of where his thoughts had wandered, and called for the person to come in. He was startled when the object of his thoughts sauntered into the room and threw himself on the other side of Harry's bed without a second thought, and Harry felt a blush rising in his cheeks.

    "What are you doing here, Malfoy?" He asked, trying to sound annoyed instead of breathless.

    "I'm bored, Potter," the blonde said in response. "I've been reading and talking to old people for the past two days; what else is there to do around here? Besides the obvious, I mean," he added with a leer, eyes lingering on the exposed strip of skin just above Harry's hipbones. Harry raised an eyebrow.

     "Well, since 'the obvious' isn't happening, you'll have to be happy with reading, talking to old people, or spending time with me."

    "I'll take it," Malfoy declared at once. "Even if you are a Gryffindor, you're the only one worth talking to in this place. Especially after our little dalliance earlier today." He waggled his eyebrows outrageously.

    "I'm honored." Harry rolled his eyes. "But if you're going to hang out with me, we're going to have to call each other by our first names. I'm not going to put up with that stupid childish rivalry from school here." Malfoy's eyes glittered and he smiled angelically.

    "Whatever you say, _Harry,_ " he practically purred Harry's name, drawing it out sensually. Harry's breath caught and he knew a light blush had spread over his cheeks, but he managed to roll his eyes anyway. The triumphant smirk Malfoy (or Draco, he supposed, no matter how odd it sounded) wore told him that the blonde wasn't fooled in the least.

    "You'd better get used to it, _Draco_ ," he murmured huskily, deciding to try and dish it out as well as receive it. Draco's eyes widened slightly before they darkened into molten pools of metallic grey. Harry's mouth twitched and he couldn't help the victorious smile stretching over his face as he cocked an eyebrow at the blonde, who scowled in an almost playful manner.

    "Cheeky brat. So what do you do for fun in here?" He asked, sitting up and pulling the drawer to the nightstand open. He reached in and pulled out Harry's journal, opening it interestedly and flipping through the pages.

    "Yes, thanks for asking, you can look at my journal if you'd like," Harry said conversationally. "Or you can try. It's spelled to be scrambled to anyone other than me and it's usually locked, but I forgot last night." It was true; in his spare time, Harry had started recording every vision or nightmare he'd ever had in the hopes of coming to terms with what he was forced to witness, and also as a reminder of what he was fighting for. In the very front were a dozen blank pages, the first three filled, for the names of people he'd seen die, if he had ever managed to find out their names. After the visions and nightmares, there were specific memories that he'd written down of the Dursley's abuse, starting from his first memory of being beaten, and the memories were interspersed with recent visions in his shaky post-Cruciatus handwriting. Harry thought that maybe he should start using his new Pensieve as well, but he was kind of nervous about leaving his memories out in the open like that; especially with nosy brats like Draco snooping around his room.

    "Ooh, the private diary of Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world," Draco was saying, waggling the book under Harry's nose. "What deep, dark secrets are written in these pages? Secret loves? Dirty thoughts? Enough material to make me millions of galleons per page, no doubt, should I be tempted to steal it and break the charm on it." Harry blanched and tried to lunge for the book, but missed.

    "That's more important than your life, you git, you wouldn't dare!" He hissed, but Draco looked completely unconcerned as he held the book out of the smaller boy's reach.

    "Oh wouldn't I?"

    "Give it back, Malfoy!" Harry lunged again, but Draco just rolled gracefully to the other side of the bed, still dangling the book in the air above his head.

    "Now now, I thought we agreed to call each other by our first names, Harry," the blonde tutted with an evil smirk. Harry let out a growl and pounced, finally managing to pin the boy onto the bed. He quickly straddled Draco and snatched at the book, but at the last moment, the Slytherin dropped the book down next to his head and Harry followed it. He grasped the book with a triumphant "Ha!" and looked down into Draco's eyes to gloat. However, he was stopped cold when he saw the small smile playing about Draco's lips and the warm glitter in his grey eyes, and Harry suddenly became much more aware of the position they were in.

    Draco's hands were pinned behind the book above his head, which Harry had grasped in his hands, and Harry himself was straddling Draco's hips and was leaned over the blonde's body, heads close together. Harry could feel Draco's warm, heavy breath against his cheek. He flexed his thighs and shifted a bit in nervousness, but froze when Draco's eyes fluttered closed and a soft groan escaped his parted lips. He felt his own breath hitch at the erotic sight and he quickly got off of the other boy before anything embarrassing happened.

    "Sorry," he murmured, clearing his throat when his voice came out husky and breathless. He quickly moved to the other side of the bed and put the book into the drawer of the nightstand, casting a wandless locking spell almost absently as he tried to control his breathing.

    "We've got to stop doing things like that, Harry, or I'm going to have a real problem living in this house with you," Draco groaned, rolling over lazily to look over at the black-haired boy. "Especially when your room is right next to mine. I might have the urge to come in here and ravish you while you sleep some night."

    Harry's eyes widened and he let out a strangled noise as his breath caught again. He sank down onto the bed, dropping his head into his hands. "What are you playing at?" He wondered incredulously. "We absolutely hated each other at the end of term three months ago! What's with the sudden change?"

    "A lot of things can happen during a few months," Draco said darkly, shifting to stare at the ceiling. "You know that as well as I do. Don't think I haven't noticed how much we've both changed, to be able to get along like we do. Nothing like this would have ever happened before this summer; we both wouldn't be here and I certainly wouldn't be laying on your bed waxing philosophical with you."

    Harry chuckled somewhat darkly. "Well, when you put it that way..."

    There was a long moment of silence. "Why are you here, Harry?"

    "Didn't you read the Daily Prophet? My house was attacked," Harry said dully, with no emotion in his voice.

    "Yes, but you were here before that, weren't you? Nothing in the article even mentioned the fact that you lived on that street; I only know because of my father."

    "Probably because they don't know. That's privileged information, Draco; only my enemies and my friends know. But yes, you're right, I wasn't there when the street was razed to the ground. I was brought here when there was an attack on my house by a bunch of new recruits three weeks into the summer. I don't think I trust you enough to tell you more than that." Harry said plainly.

    "Fair enough." There was another long silence, and Draco fidgeted. "Aren't you going to ask me why I'm here?" He said finally.

    "No, you'll tell me when you're ready. I don't want to pry," Harry said calmly, not giving any hint to the fact that he already knew why Draco was there.

    "...Thanks, Harry." The words were spoken hesitantly, as if he wasn't used to saying them, but Harry just smiled brilliantly, knowing that he meant it.

    "So, Draco, are you up for a game of chess?" 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is an end and a beginning.

    Another few days passed until there was only eight days before September 1st. The days seemed long as Harry trained and studied and spent time with Draco, talking or playing games. Sirius had recovered from their duel quickly and Harry had apologized profusely when the animagus had woken up, but Sirius had just waved him off.

    "Don't worry about it, cub, I asked for the duel in the first place. Besides, you train with Moody and Shacklebolt; how can I compete with that?" Was his response. He did end up going on his assignment for the Order, and Harry spent that day so nervous and high-strung that Draco refused to hang out with him, but he safely returned a full day later, grinning happily, and Harry relaxed. He did have a vision or two, but nothing of importance could be reported to Dumbledore, so Harry just wrote the vision down in his journal and tried to go back to sleep.

    Harry and Draco got to know each other fairly well as time passed in the dreary house, since they were the same age and seemed to spend the most time with each other when Harry wasn't training and when the adults were busy. Harry learned to read the subtle signs in Draco's body language and in his eyes that told volumes about his feelings, and Draco learned that Harry was far more complex and secretive than he'd ever imagined. This intrigued him to no end. They told each other about their childhoods, and they learned much about each other from the cautious, sparse details they provided each other with.

    Draco grew up in richness and luxury, though he was often forced to attend banquets, private lessons, and etiquette lessons until he was the perfectly cultured Malfoy he was today. His father was very strict about appearances and always criticized his activities until Draco felt that he had to become perfect to please his father. Once out of sight, however, Draco was ignored by his father and shunted off onto the house elves that took care of him for most of his childhood. While he hated and idolized his father in equal parts, however, he loved his mother. When he was young, she had been warm to him and played with him, but as he got older his father had prevented her from "softening" Draco until she was forced to be cold and emotionless around him.

    Harry, on the other hand, explained that he grew up in a perfectly _normal_ and average muggle home with his aunt, uncle, and cousin. He kept his terms very vague as he described his childhood, mostly describing what his relatives looked like and their habits. He did mention that they didn't like him much, that he had gotten Dudley's hand-me-downs his entire life, and that his aunt had taught him to cook. Harry skimmed over his days running away from Dudley and his gang, "Harry hunting", and having no friends, but laughed a little at his experiences with accidental magic and his first conversation with a snake.

    Draco perked up at this. "That's right, you're a parseltongue!" He exclaimed in excitement, and Harry rolled his eyes.

    "How did you forget that? You're the one that leaked it to Rita Skeeter last year," he said, but without much anger in his voice. Draco had the decency to look faintly apologetic.

    "Yeah, well I only heard it that once in second year, and you've never used it since. Say something," he insisted, looking interested.

    "Say something in parseltongue? Why?" Harry asked, giving him a strange look.

    "Come on, Harry," Draco whined, "there's only two parseltongues in the world and you're right here! I'm too tired to find the Dark Lord and ask him right now." Harry snorted with laughter.

    "Right, he'd probably curse you for even asking."

    "But it would be worth it if he did it in parseltongue," the Slytherin quipped. "Do it, Harry."

    Harry shrugged. "All right, if it'll make you shut up." Draco ignored that. Harry's eyes unfocused briefly as he imagined a snake in front of him, then he focused on Draco and in a soft, sibilant hiss, said, _"I'm glad that you can't understand this because I'll never get the courage to say it otherwise: You're arse is looking particularly sexy in those slacks, Draco."_

    Draco shivered, glancing up from watching those silken lips move to see Harry's stormy green eyes fixed piercingly on him. For some reason, a warm flush spread across his cheeks as if Harry had said something very naughty. His breath hitched and became heavy. "Merlin, it's unbelievably sexy when you do that," he groaned. Harry stared, a light blush spreading over his own cheeks.

    "Wh-what?" He stammered uncertainly.

    "The hissing. It's as sexy as hell," Draco repeated succinctly.

    "Right. That's what I thought you said." Harry gave him a look. "You have some weird kinks, Malfoy."

    "You don't know the half of it, _Harry._ "

    "And I'm not sure I want to."

    "Are you sure?" Draco pouted.

    "Quite sure. Not right now, at any rate."

    "Why not?"

    Harry sighed. "Draco, what's going to happen when we get back to school? We can't just be friends all of the sudden; we'll be hounded the whole year by both of our houses and your father would not only be suspicious, he'd _kill_ you!"

    "I could tell my father and the Slytherins that I'm becoming friends with you because of some grand, evil plan of mine to get you to the Dark Lord. That takes care of my problems. What about you?"

    "That's not going to work, you git."

    "Well, obviously we're going to have to keep our... friendship or whatever you want to call it, secret. You know, back to 'Heard your family kicked you out, Potter, did they finally realize how dangerous you are?' and 'Shut up, Malfoy, you git.' Note how your insults are not nearly as well-thought out as mine, and that's about the size of it. All back to normal."

    "Do you spend your free time coming up with insults for me?"

    "No, I'm just quick-witted."

    "Right, I'll believe that when you stop taking notes on the same page in your textbooks for an hour."

    "Have you been spying on me, Potter?"

    "Are you really asking me, or are you just practicing for the school year?"

    "Practicing, of course."

    "Ah. So, are we just going to forget this summer ever happened, then?"

    Draco snorted. "I could hardly forget a summer where I spent two weeks in an old house with Harry bloody Potter and became friends with him while trying not to shag him into the wall."

    "Well then, why..." Harry stopped short, Draco's words catching up with him. His face instantly flushed and he flopped back onto the bed next to the Slytherin, groaning.

    "What I'm saying is that we'll just have to act like normal and know that we don't mean what we say to each other. Mostly." He smirked, ignoring Harry's reaction.

   "Right. Just." Harry muttered. He got off the bed went to the desk under the window, sorting through his papers and picking up some books. "Well, while you think up some of your 'meaningless insults', I'm going to go-"

    He broke off suddenly when a prickle of pain went through his scar, causing his spare hand to shoot up reflexively. Frowning, he rubbed a finger along his scar in a futile attempt to stifle the pain. Distantly, he could hear Draco calling out his name, but he ignored it. A sense of impatience and urgency was rising within him quickly, like a tightly coiled snake ready to strike. He gasped and staggered when a sharp spike of pain suddenly lanced through his mind, dropping his books to the floor. Almost instantly, a presence was by his side, grasping his arm almost painfully.

    "Harry? Harry, what's going on?" Draco's voice sounded muffled and distorted, like Harry was trying to listen from underwater, but he understood the worry that was practically pouring off the blonde.

    "Voldemort..." he managed to gasp, tears of pain gathering at the corners of his eyes. "He wants... it. I've got to tell..." He trailed off in frustration as his concentration wavered and he lost what he was going to say. Shaking his head in the hopes of clearing it, he wrenched his arm from Draco's grasp and ran from the room, down the stairs, and burst into the main sitting room. Only Shacklebolt was there, studying a book, and Harry suppressed a growl of annoyance. Useless. He needed someone else, preferably Dumbledore.

    He spun around and ran to the kitchen, hearing Draco call his name urgently and the pound of footsteps as people began coming down the stairs to see what was going on. The kitchen was empty too, and in frustration he whistled a sharp note to Zephyr asking her to get Dumbledore and bring him here immediately. Instantly, she burst from his body and sang him a short song of comfort before she was gone in a flash of fire. Another sharp spike caused him to clutch his head and let out a high keen of pain before he dropped to his knees, the flashes of images and voices in his mind almost causing him to miss the sound of people bursting into the room.

    "No, stop! Don't touch me!" He cried as he felt them coming closer. Another burst of pain and images. "Damn you, Dumbledore, _where are you?!_ " As if he had summoned him, the Headmaster appeared in the room in a burst of flames, taking in the scene with a glance before immediately moving to Harry's side.

    "Harry, what is it?" He asked calmly, but urgently. Harry almost sobbed in relief, but didn't raise his eyes from the floor. Though the Dark Lord didn't know it, he was very close to Harry's mind at the moment and Harry didn't want any visual images to distract Voldemort from his rantings.

    "Headmaster," Harry gasped. "It's Voldemort. He's angry, impatient, but eager and excited. He's _so_ close..." Harry groaned and shuddered violently. "He's so close to me, Albus, but he doesn't know it. _So close..!_ He's almost there, he almost has it - he's so close to succeeding!"

    "What is it, Harry? What is he doing?"

    "Can't see... everything. Throne room. Nagini. Malfoy. Snape. Lestrange. Avery, Nott, McNair, Heilman, Xu Chi..." Harry twitched as he rattled off a few names absently. "Gathered them all... for a simple task... a mere prelude to... to-" His voice wavered, nearly dropping to a hiss. "I don't know... he's going to do something big... something soon. But he needs something... one thing... before he can do it. But no one is com- competent-"

    Harry broke off with a howl as another spike of pain sent him careening into Voldemort's mind. "You incompetent fools!" He shrieked, "How difficult is it to find one simple object? Nott! It was your task to find the artifact all those years ago and yet all you could come up with are rumors and false leads after all this time? Why is it that only Snape and _Pettigrew_ remained faithful to my orders? Did the rest of you believe that I was gone, defeated by that impudent brat _Potter!? Cru-_ " Harry's jaw abruptly snapped shut, a pained yelp coming from his throat as he bit through his tongue to prevent himself from cursing anyone in the room.

    He shuddered and panted, odd pained noises coming from him as his body jerked from the curse. Sirius and Remus seemed to be on the verge of running to Harry's side, only a shred of self-control and Harry's plea not to touch him held them back. Draco was just staring at the Boy-Who-Lived in horrified fascination, face pale and slightly sick-looking. Finally, Harry's body relaxed slightly and he pushed himself up from his collapsed position to his hands and knees. His head still bowed, the muscles in his arms and legs trembling violently, Harry shook his head a little to clear it. Everyone thought it was over and relaxed, but then Harry stiffened and that cold, silky hiss came from his still form once more.

    "Cease your prattling, Nott. So... the Department of Mysteries is the most likely location, you say. Very well, that is enough... for now. Crabbe, Goyle. Escort Mr. Nott to his quarters and send the Healer to him." There was a pause as the tension in the room grew stifling, the only sounds Harry's harsh pants and the steady drip of blood from his mouth that pattered in scarlet drops on the floor beneath him. Suddenly he began speaking again, causing Draco to pale even farther as a very familiar name fell from Harry's lips. "Luciuss... get in touch with your contacts within the Ministry and find out everything about the objects in the Department of Mysteries. We will see if our good friend Nott did his homework well. You are all dismissed except for my guests." Another long pause. "Heilman, Xu Chi. I see that you have... accepted my... and... from overseas... tell me, what of... allies of the Cl- Cla-"

    Harry shuddered and almost collapsed as his voice wavered and returned to his normal melodic tones, his head drooping tiredly in a resigned shake. A second passed as he gathered his wits together. "I-I'm sorry, Headmaster. I tried to hold on as long as I dared, but he's not as angry anymore and his shields are back in full strength."

    "You did very well, Harry," Dumbledore said calmly, patting Harry's shoulder, but the green-eyed boy hissed in pain and drew away quickly.

    "Don't-" He gasped, wincing. "I-I'm sorry, but I can't touch anyone right now. My nerves - too sensitive." Dumbledore immediately pulled his hand away.

    "Too much Cruciatus," he murmured, but Harry shook his head.

    "No. Well, yes, some of it, but not all. I feel... different. I think - I think this last vision triggered a... defense mechanism, I guess." He gave the old wizard a significant look, then glanced at Zephyr, who had perched on a chair near Harry. Dumbledore's eyes widened in understanding.

    "Then..."

    "Yes, I'm searching for them," Harry said abruptly.

    "I understand, Harry, but enough stalling, you need to get to a bed to rest. No, Harry," he held up a hand when the teen opened his mouth to protest. "Voldemort is important, but your health is even more important at the moment. You can give the rest of your report when you're in bed and resting."

    Harry reluctantly nodded, carefully sitting back on his haunches and accepting a wet hand towel someone passed to him as he caught his breath. He wiped the blood off of his face and pinched his throbbing tongue with a clean part of the towel to help slow the bleeding. Slowly, he stood, almost hugging the wall as he used it for support and waved off anyone who moved forward to help.

    "I can't touch anyone right now," he snapped, frustration and exhaustion coloring his tone as he concentrated on keeping his trembling legs from collapsing on him. "You can't help me, so why don't you all go find something better to do instead of staring at me." A wave of dizziness came over him and he closed his eyes, leaning his throbbing head against the cool wood as he concentrated on taking deep breaths. Slowly, with the Headmaster's urging, the room emptied until just Sirius, Remus, and Dumbledore remained in the room with him.

    "I need my mate," Harry moaned pitifully as he opened his eyes to stare dully into space. "It hurts so much already. How am I supposed to put up with this kind of pain until I find them?"

    _Do not worry, Harry. I promise that you will not have to suffer for long._ Zephyr cooed as she hopped to a chair closer to him, gripping its back firmly with her sharp talons to keep her balance. Harry nodded wearily and carefully pushed himself away from the wall, swaying dangerously before he collapsed back against the wall. Sirius automatically stepped forward to help, but Harry shied away from him and he stepped back to Remus' side, fear, helplessness, and frustration welling up inside him. Remus gently took his hand and squeezed it, causing Sirius' emotions to calm slightly.

    Harry didn't let himself think about how he knew what his godfather was feeling, instead taking a deep breath and determinedly shuffling forward while clinging to the wall. "I don't even want to think about how stupid I look right now," he declared in an attempt at humor, but only Dumbledore chuckled warmly.

    "You're doing better than others would give you credit for, dear boy. I do believe that we should not try to brave the stairs to your room, however, perhaps the private study across the hall would be best. Sirius, if you could go ahead and transfigure a bed for Harry, it would be most appreciated." Sirius hesitated as he hovered between the door and Harry, but eventually nodded abruptly and left the room.

    "Quick," Harry said, stopping immediately and turning to his former professor. "Remus, pick me up and take me to the room."

    The werewolf gaped in astonishment, taking a step backward as he shook his head. "What? Harry, no," he protested. "I'm not your mate, the pain would drive you insane! There's no way I could do it, not after seeing how much pain it causes you."

    "Remus, please," Harry pleaded. "I need you to do this for me. There's no way I'll make it across the hall alone and I just want to get it over with. I don't want Sirius to do it either, it would kill him to cause me that much pain."

    "And you think it won't kill me?" Remus exclaimed.

    "It won't," Harry insisted. "A part of you, the wolf, understands what it’s like to be in pain because of our non-human instincts. You know that there are some things that you have to do in order to stay sane!" With that, he threw himself at the stunned man with all of his strength and Remus was forced to catch him so that he wouldn't hit the floor. Almost immediately, any part of Harry's bare skin that touched Remus burned with an intense feeling of _wrongness_ , a boiling pain that screamed at him that Remus was not his mate, that Remus had no right touching him, that he didn't belong there in Remus' arms. Only through sheer determination did he prevent himself from giving into instinct and throwing himself from the werewolf's arms or attacking him.

    "Move!" He managed to groan through gritted teeth, and instantly Remus began to move, bursting through the kitchen door and sprinting across the hall to the private study with Harry in his arms. A high, almost inaudible keen of pain emerged from the back of Harry's throat as a few pained tears squeezed from beneath his eyelids and he was just beginning to give into the instinct to struggle when Remus' arms abruptly vanished from around him and he fell a very short way to a soft bed, his breath expelled from his body with a startled yelp.

    For a few long seconds he just lay there sprawled across the bed, panting and shaking, his limbs occasionally twitching and cramping in a delayed response to the pain he had been put through. Gradually, he became aware of Dumbledore entering the room and Sirius yelling angrily at Remus.

    "What were you thinking, Remus?! You know how much pain it causes him to touch someone who's not his mate and what do you do? You _pick him up_ and run all over the house with him! Are you _insane?!_ Look at him! He's been through hell and back and you-"

    "Sirius..." Harry rasped, but they didn't hear him.

    "-can't believe you! _You're_ the one that dueled him-"

    " _Sirius!_ Remus!" Harry snapped, eyes blazing like green fire, and a brief snap of flame cracked next to his godfather, almost setting his sleeve ablaze. Harry took a deep breath when he saw that he had finally gotten their attention. "I _told_ Remus to carry me, he had no say in the matter. I knew I couldn't make it across the hall without help, so I just told him to get the pain over with quickly. A little more on top of everything else won't kill me."

    "Won't kill you! Harry, even if you told him to, Remus shouldn't have-"

    "Why don't you listen to his side of the story instead of just assuming everything?" Harry said tiredly. "But do it later. Right now, just calm down, shut up, and stop acting like children, or you'll have to leave while I give my report to the Headmaster. I don't have the time or strength to argue with you right now."

    The room fell silent.

    Harry sighed again and rubbed his face, feeling his strength ebbing even as he ran a finger over his burning scar. His whole body and mind ached, and he felt sick and fevered from being in that creature's twisted mind for so long.

    "Harry, maybe we should wait until-" Dumbledore began uncertainly, but Harry cut him off with a wave of his hand.

    "No, I'm fine like this." The elderly wizard nodded reluctantly.

    "Alright, Harry, I'll trust your judgment. Let's begin at the beginning, shall we?"

    "I was up in my room talking with Draco when my scar started to burn..." Harry explained what had happened until Dumbledore had arrived and he was thrust into Voldemort's mind, describing his sense of urgency and the pain as Voldemort's emotions spiked higher. At this point, he paused. "Do you think that we could use my Pensieve for the vision?" He asked abruptly. "I don't know why I've never thought of it before; I could just add all of my visions to it and you could watch them with the Order any time you needed to. It would be much easier to explain my observations then."

    "I could never ask that of you, my dear boy," Dumbledore said with some surprise. "Your memories are a very private thing; Severus would never submit to his memories being displayed in such a public manner." Harry resisted making a comment on why the former Death Eater would do so.

    "Well, I'm not Snape," he said simply. "They're hardly my memories anyway, they're Voldemort's. Which, of course, is what makes them so valuable."

    "Very well, Harry, if you're sure..." Remus was sent to get the Pensieve from Harry's room while Dumbledore explained how to use it.

    "There are several different functions in a Pensieve," he said. "Firstly, you add a memory by concentrating fully on the memory you want to extract, from beginning to end. Then, you put your wand to your temple and imagine the beginning of the memory attaching itself to the tip of your wand. Then you draw the wand away from your temple and watch the images pass before your mind's eye and snip off the memory where you want it to end. After you've added a memory into the bowl, depending on the incantation you use, you can project it above the bowl for a large audience, pause it at a certain point to explain something, or skip ahead to a different point. In a Pensieve with several memories, you stir it gently with your wand while thinking about the memory you want to attach to your wand and then draw it up to the surface. Groups of five or less can usually enter a memory comfortably."

    Harry nodded in understanding as Remus returned and set the Pensieve on a small table that Dumbledore summoned from the corner of the study. After several tries, Harry was able to draw the memory properly from his mind and set it into the bowl, where the fine, silvery threads pooled and undulated like a fogged-over pond in moonlight. Entering the memory required no incantation, only for them to touch the liquid memory, and they were soon standing in the dim dark of Voldemort's throne room, which was generally nondescript in that it was impossible to tell anything distinguishable or unique about the castle where he was located.

    Just as with his previous experience in a Pensieve, Harry noticed that the memory played in third person, but what he wasn't expecting was the complete detachment he had to the scene in front of him. As soon as he had removed the memory, contrary to his expectation that it would be completely removed from his memory, he found that he was still able to recall the experience perfectly. However, the emotions that had made the memory so painful were muted, dimmed, and probably should have been removed totally, but the empathic abilities he'd inherited when he'd bonded with Zephyr resisted such a complete removal. And so, when he saw the tall, thin form of Voldemort lounging on his throne, his blood red eyes fixed intently on the line of Death Eaters in front of him, Harry only felt an echo of the pain and disgust that he had felt in Voldemort's presence.

    " _Desino._ " Harry said just before the memory would begin, pausing it so that he could turn to his audience and explain the situation. "Now, I had been having several brief flashes of images and thoughts and voices before I entered Voldemort's mind completely, so this memory is a bit out of context. Voldemort had just called most of his Inner Circle and his two 'guests'." He pointed to the two foreign men that were standing slightly off to the side and behind the Inner Circle. "From what I could gather from Voldemort's thoughts, these men had arrived early for an appointment and Voldemort had decided that it would be a good idea to let them join in on one of his punishments, since it sort of involved them. Heilman," he pointed to the large, burly blonde man in expensive royal blue robes, "is from Germany. He had been contacted by Voldemort for a proposition involving some unique talents he has. Xu Chi," he indicated the other man, a short, bald, brown-skinned Asian with a rather flat face in Asian-styled robes, "is from Mongolia and was contacted for the same reasons.

    "I think we can continue... _Pergo._ "

    The memory abruptly began again with Voldemort standing and beginning to pace in front of his followers, Nagini slithering around his throne to avoid his feet. Voldemort began shouting about the incompetence of his followers and Harry paused the memory again after Nott was cursed, wincing at the light twinge in his scar.

    "From what I could gather, and Snape probably already told you about this, was that Voldemort had planned to do this big... thing before he was reduced to a spirit. He had assigned a few of his Inner Circle to gather the important ingredients and most of them had succeeded or continued to follow his orders after he disappeared. Now, Voldemort must have decided that it was time to continue with his old plans. Before Nott had given his report and made him so angry, the others had reported that they had completed their assignments and he had become excited, since the hardest part of the... ritual or whatever was gathering the ingredients. But Nott had failed, so the whole thing needed to be put on hold. _Pergo._ "

    The memory continued. The curse was lifted from Nott and those viewing could hear what Nott had tried to explain to Voldemort.

    _"M-my lord, M-Master... I am sorry I failed."_ Nott gasped. _"Very little is known about the artifact. Nothing in the books is conclusive and no one alive remembers anything from that time period. I traveled across Bulgaria, Asia, and Romania, but I could find nothing but rumors. The only lead that I haven't followed is one that claims that the scion is deep within the Department of Mysteries. I could not hope to enter there on my own and even if I could, no one is completely sure what the artifact looks like and I would have surely been caught. But I'm sure with your great power and influence and knowledge, you could-"_

Voldemort cut him off abruptly and he fell silent.

_"Cease your prattling, Nott. So... the Department of Mysteries is the most likely location, you say. Very well, that is enough... for now. Crabbe, Goyle. Escort Mr. Nott to his quarters and send the Healer to him."_

    Crabbe and Goyle Sr., previously unnoticed in the corner of the room near the great doors leading out of the room, quickly lumbered forward and dragged the shaking man from the room. Voldemort finished giving his instructions to the eldest Malfoy and they watched as the rest of the Inner Circle left the room, leaving just the two foreigners. They stepped forward when told to; Heilman's hard, flat eyes showing nothing but arrogance as he stared up at the Dark Lord, and Xu Chi's slitted black eyes, almost invisible in the flickering light of the room, glittered with suppressed amusement. When Voldemort began to speak to them, however, the scene around them began to flicker violently until it dispersed into grey-black fog, and they found themselves back in Harry's makeshift bedroom.

    "That's pretty much it," Harry said as they regained their bearings. "I couldn't keep my hold on him and I missed what Voldemort said to the foreigners, but I think that there are a lot of things to be gained from those few minutes."  

    "Indeed, my boy, I believe we can," Dumbledore mused thoughtfully, sitting back in his purple chintz chair and stroking his beard. Remus also looked thoughtful, but Sirius seemed to be in a state of perpetual shock and horror.

    "How can you all be so calm about this?" He choked, gesturing wildly at the Pensieve. "Merlin, I can't believe you see things like _that_ when you have those visions, Harry! I mean, I knew they were bad, but to be in that creature's _mind_... I could barely stand to be next to a _memory_ of him without my skin crawling."

    Harry shrugged and stirred the memory absently with his wand. "That wasn't nearly as bad as most of the visions I've had. Dumbledore knows that and Remus understands what it's like to have a curse that you have no control over. You just have to look on the bright side and try to move on. You get used to it, after a while, and you will soon."

    Sirius just mouthed something wordlessly and ran a hand through his hair and down his haggard face, covering his eyes for a long moment. Dumbledore sighed and stood, vanishing his chair with a flick of his wand.

    "Professor," Harry said before the Headmaster could leave. The elderly wizard gave him a stern look and Harry blushed slightly. "Albus. From what Zephyr told me, and from what I feel like, this final vision caused my phoenix instincts to accelerate to the stage where my body searches for my mate. I've experienced so much pain in the past month since my birthday that I guess my, er... 'inner phoenix' is trying to make sure that I will find my mate as quickly as possible so that some of my pain can be taken away or helped to be healed by them. I'm not sure what my mate could do to help, but now I'll probably be unable to touch anyone for a while... Is there some kind of wizarding disease or something I can get over the summer that will make it painful for me to touch anyone?"

    Dumbledore's eyes twinkled slightly. "I believe there is such a disease; it's a rather rare mutation of dragon pox that makes it painful for the victim to encounter another person's innate magic, which is in all of us. I believe its effects last for a month or so after contracting it, so you must have gotten it about five days before school began. Unless your mate happens to be in this household...?"

    Harry snorted. "Right. The odds of that are so impossible that it's not even worth considering." _No matter how much you want it to happen._

    The Headmaster's eyes twinkled knowingly and a small smile tugged at his lips. "Of course, of course. Fate, however, can be a curious thing... Thank you for the memory, dear boy, it was extremely valuable. And, if I'm not mistaken, I should have a rather irate potions master waiting for me back at my office, so I must be skedaddling. Rest well and try to keep your chin up, Harry." With these words, he disappeared out the door.

    Harry leaned back with a sigh and closed his eyes for a few seconds. Hearing a rustle next to him, he saw Remus sit next to him and look him over intensely. Harry tried not to fidget. "Sirius," the werewolf finally called softly. "Get some Fever-Reducer, post-Cruciatus, headache potion, and a healing potion, please." Sirius nodded and left, returning quickly with the vials in hand. Harry took them from his godfather with a soft "Thanks," and downed them with the ease of someone who had done it a hundred times before. He had taken these potions and others so often that he could identify most of them by smell, color, or taste alone and tossed them back without even hesitating.  
    Finished, he laid back onto the slightly lumpy pillows and pulled the musty comforter up to his neck, blinking slowly in exhaustion as he smiled at his loving godfathers. "Don't worry about it, I'll be fine," he said reassuringly. "I'm just going to rest and I'll be fine in the morning. Just don't forget not to touch me." They nodded and he turned onto his side, curling into the fetal position as he did normally, and immediately fell asleep.

* * *

  
    It was a full day later, after Harry had recovered as promised, that Draco came to see him in his room where he was studying. If he was honest with himself, he was a little bit nervous to see the blonde. More often than not, their banter had ventured into light flirting and if Harry hadn't been promised to a life mate, he would have been interested to see where his relationship could have gone with the youngest Malfoy. Draco was, after all, very attractive, witty, funny, and also had a rather endearing side that Harry had only caught glimpses of. He was also very... passionate. The Malfoy heir never did anything by halves; he threw himself into everything he tried with stubborn arrogance and a lithe grace that, while similar to Harry, was also the complete antithesis of the Gryffindor.

    However, Harry also knew that a relationship could never happen with Draco, as it was extremely unlikely that he was Harry's mate and had been living alongside him for the past two weeks. Harry was worried that Draco would be hurt, angry, and embarrassed when Harry found his life mate and completely lost any sexual interest in Draco, especially if his mate was a girl. Harry was quite sure that Draco's flirting wasn't completely uninterested, and he knew that Draco would possibly go back to hating him if he was rejected by Harry again. And Harry couldn't help but be slightly disappointed by that fact.

    After dinner, Harry had retired to his room to study and possibly avoid the interrogation from the blonde, but it was bound to happen sooner or later. The arrogant, self-assured knock that startled him from his intense perusing of a text on Occlumency (the art of protecting one's mind from intruders) had fairly screamed of "Malfoy", and Harry had reluctantly let the blonde in. When Draco entered, however, it wasn't with the sauntering gait and arrogant smirk that Harry had become familiar with, but rather he was solemn and his gaze was somewhat intense as he watched Harry close his books and turn his chair around to face him. Draco opted to stand next to the bed, where he could pace easily.

    For now, however, he stood still and scrutinized Harry closely. This had happened to Harry so often over the course of his stay at Grimmauld Place that he almost snapped an insult in annoyance, but managed to hold his temper. "I have so many questions that I don't even know where to start," the blonde said finally.

    "Why not start at the beginning?" Harry responded, only a hint of exasperation in his voice. Draco met his gaze levelly.

    "Alright. What the hell happened yesterday?"

    "A vision from Voldemort," Harry said evenly, ignoring Draco's flinch. "I've been getting them all summer, ever since he was brought back at the end of the Third Task. This one was fairly low key since only one person got cursed, but it had never happened during the day before."

    "Why would it matter how many people get cursed?" Draco asked, puzzled.

    "Besides the fact that I have to see them? I also feel Voldemort's curses as if he casts them directly on me. It was a real pain when I was at the Dursley's since I didn't have any potions. My nerves were shot."

    "Bloody hell, Harry," Draco said plainly, looking him over again, this time with more concern and some respect in his grey eyes.

    "I'm fine now," Harry said defensively. Draco gave him a look and shrugged, looking off to the side uncomfortably. There was a silence.

    "Why you?" The blonde asked suddenly. Harry blinked and tapped his scar sardonically.

    "It's all in the scar, Draco. The famous, bloody scar. It connected me to Voldemort when he tried to kill me the first time and it's been nothing but trouble ever since."

    "Do you see... him often? My father?" Draco asked, almost hesitant.

    "Yes." Harry whispered simply. Draco's shoulders slumped.

    "I hate him. He's a disgusting hypocrite." Harry refrained from mentioned how similar that trait was to Voldemort. "He's always talking about how he's following Slytherin's example and traditional Malfoy ideals of pride and class, but what he's doing is twisted; a bastardized version of Slytherin ideals. Malfoy's and Slytherins are supposed to be proud and clever, gaining our ambitions with subtlety and influence, not blasting away everything and everyone that opposes us with raw power like some... Gryffindor!" Draco had been pacing, but at this he stopped and ran his hands through his silvery-blonde hair, face flushed with emotion and his breath coming in light pants. Harry thought he looked rather stunning.

    "What else?" He asked after a short while to let Draco regain his composure.

    "Why did you call for Dumbledore?"

    "I've been sending him any important information from my visions," Harry said, shrugging. "After all, he's the central figurehead for the Light and he has the connections to help stop Voldemort. My information can be useful, and after all the people I've seen killed, I want to help as many people survive the war as I can. Besides, after all we've been through together, he's like a grandfather to me. Why, don't you trust him?" He added teasingly. Draco snorted.

    "I don't trust anyone that smiles as much as he does. Why can't you touch anyone anymore? It's not just because of the Cruciatus, is it?" He asked shrewdly.

    Harry looked down, refusing to meet his eye. "No, it's not just that. It's... complicated. I can't explain it to you now, but just try not to touch me anymore. It hurts too much."

    "Too bad," Draco said emotionlessly, only a hint of real regret in his tone, though it poured from his body like a beacon to Harry. "I was looking forward to... getting to know you better."

    Harry nodded with a slight blush, finally looking up to meet his eyes. "I know." He said with real regret. _Me too._  
     
    "Now, concentrate, Harry. That's right, imagine the magic just beneath your skin, flowing up through your chest and down your arms, down to your very fingertips. That's it... almost there, now send it out of your body like an extension of your arm and let it wrap around the feather. There. Now, just like with your own arm, flex the magic and bring it back to you. Exert your _will_ through the magic, _tell_ the magic what you want it to do. There, there... hold it-!"

    Harry's eyebrows drew in as he tried to keep his concentration, but he felt the magic "threads" begin to fray, loosen and fall apart. Already knowing what he would see when he opened his eyes, he let his hand drop and his shoulders slumped. He was never going to master soundless magic, not to mention wandless!

    "Sorry, I'm sorry," he said miserably as he opened his eyes and looked over at his teachers. Dumbledore, who was supervising this first practical lesson of wandless/soundless magic, stood off to the side of the room next to Shacklebolt and Moody, whose faces were completely impassive as they watched the feather float down to the ground halfway between Harry and the table. Thinking they were disappointed, Harry immediately looked away and down at the feather, glaring at it in frustration. _I'll never get this right!_

    Abruptly, the feather burst into flame and quickly vanished into a small pile of ash, burnt into the shape of a feather on the floor. Harry blinked and sighed. He had had several lessons thus far on controlling his wandless and elemental magics, mostly theory but with some practical, and he could never seem to get much to happen without some strong emotion accompanying his attempts. While he had improved greatly to the point where he could get into the calm meditative state required for controlling his power within seconds (even under extreme duress, as Moody had soon showed him), he seemed to stall just at getting the desired action fully completed.

    "That was quite good, Harry," Dumbledore said encouragingly. "But perhaps you were right about starting off with a focus..." He was sometimes required to sit in on these practices in order to help Harry recognize and initiate the feelings and will needed to get wandless magic to work, because at the moment, he was the only wizard alive and reliable that could do and teach such powerful magics. Of course, in perfect Dumbledore-style, the older wizard had sent him several books on the subjects and told him to read them and try to figure them out on his own. Harry had read them and had even understood most of it, but since the way that one went about performing such powerful techniques were unique to the person who performed them, it wasn't really something that could be properly taught from a book.

    Sighing again, Harry walked over to the table against the wall of the training room and looked over the various objects strayed across it. Shrugging, he picked up a quill, since he figured that he could use any kind of everyday object as a focus to act as a conduit for his wandless magic. Walking back to the empty table in the middle of the room, Harry waited for Shacklebolt to conjure another feather and fingered the long, soft feather in the quill, idly noting the differences.

    "Alright, kid. Let's focus more on soundless now that you have your security blanket," Moody growled from the side, and Harry felt his ears turn a bit red, though he mostly ignored the comment. Concentrating on the feather, he took a deep breath and almost immediately fell into the meditative state, ignoring the bright colors representing his teachers and the faint, reddish hue to the walls.

    The first time he had managed to reach this state, Harry had nearly panicked when he had opened eyes to a world of bright, shifting metallic colors. Magic. Once he realized that he was seeing the innate and inert magics within everything, he had spent hours studying the different colors and puzzling out the meanings, even though he had suffered for it later with a giant headache that Moody had refused to let him heal. "It'll teach you not to rush headlong into something you know nothing about," he'd growled. Despite this, Harry was still awed by the ranges of color and texture that magic possessed and was amazed that not more wizards learned to see what was such a big part of their lives.

    As Harry had soon learned, the brightness of the colors within an object or person often determined the magical ability or amount of innate magic that the object had. For example, the faint greens and browns of grass or trees indicated that everything in the natural world held some magic, but often not enough to be sentient or to be useful in potions (except, of course, magical plants). Protective wards were often red in color, cursed objects were a sickly green, and transfigured objects a soft pink, superimposed over a faint outline of the original object. Man-made objects like tables or buildings had absolutely no color at all. The extremely bright colors in a wizard or witch (often called their "aura", as it is unique to each person) not only suggested their magical ability, but also their personality and mood, shifting and swirling as the potential for using magic shifted.

    What had startled Harry the most as he looked out of his window onto the busy muggle street, was the faint coloring to each of the muggles, indicating that even they had magic in their bodies, but not enough to do anything remotely magical.

    Shaking his head slightly to clear his head, Harry searched his mind for his magical core. His core, represented as a bright, pale gold ball of mercury-like liquid in his mind, appeared to change shape often, shifting to become a perfect sphere or egg-like shape. The first time he had prodded it with a mental finger, Harry had watched as the surface of the sphere had rippled and undulated before he had been nearly overwhelmed with the magic that poured out in response to his curiosity. Reading a bit further ahead in his book after he had managed to calm down and siphon the magic back into his core, he found that it stated clearly not to manhandle his core, instead to act on the natural "floodgates" around his core in order to control the amount of magic he wanted to release.

    However, Harry had also found that many of the things that the book had explained did not apply to him. For example, it had explained what to do if he had released too much magic, and how to gather inert magic from his surroundings, while Harry had already been doing these things instinctively. Also, after studying a drawing of what the author had described to be an "average" wizard's core, he found that his was much larger and much brighter than what it should be. He figured that this must be because of his bond to Zephyr, since phoenixes were practically made of magic.

    Now, Harry allowed the floodgates of his core to crack open slightly, just enough for him to feel the magic simmering beneath his skin, and automatically directed it down his arm, through his hand, and into the quill as he concentrated on summoning the feather. What he hadn't expected, however, was for the quill to act as a catapult, seizing on his magic and hurling it toward the table. Harry's eyes widened as he felt his magic wrap around the entire table and yank it toward him in a massive _Accio!_ that had Harry diving out of the way as the table rocketed past him. Heart pounding, he stayed crouched on the ground as he watched the table impact the opposite wall and break into several large pieces. The lone white feather floated cheerily to the ground next to him.

    The room was silent as Harry held up the innocent-looking quill to his eyes in incredulity. The long feather he had been studying before was now nothing more than a burnt stalk, the rest of it completely burned to ash with the amount of magic he had forced through it.

    "Well, it appears to me that we have a problem or two," Dumbledore said cheerfully in his understated way. "Too much will, too much magic, or too much power? Also, it seems that we need to find a focus that will not disintegrate or otherwise become destroyed as it acts as a conduit for Harry's magic."

    "Right..." Harry said weakly.

    "Well then, my boy, we'll just have to try again, won't we?"

    An hour later, Harry had managed to master soundless magic with a focus as well as learning to control his magic to a much finer degree than most wizards ever had to learn. Harry's magic was so potent that even a drop from his magical core often over-charges his spells to a point where the results were magnified. Though oddly enough (as Moody had found out when he had tried to surprise a reaction out of Harry), when Harry reacted completely on instinct instead of conscious thought, he regulated his magic perfectly so that it did exactly what he wanted it to do. It seemed that he got much better results when "communicating" with his magic than when he simply tried to control it. When he finally thought to ask Zephyr, she confirmed it.

    _Magic as a whole is a sentient being, Harry._ She explained. _This is a lesson that you are required to learn on your own. Magic is gifted to all natural creatures and beings in varying amounts and can be bent by some (wizards and witches) to be used to their purposes. What you have learned is that Magic cannot be forced and cannot be controlled, especially not by you. You, as part of a magical creature, are even less inclined to control magic as wizards because at a very basic, unconscious level, you_ understand _Magic and so cannot willingly force her to bend to your will. Rather, you form a symbiotic relationship with her, more one of old friends and family than anything else. You will benefit much more, and use magic much more easily, with this kind of connection than from the one you had before._

Nodding thoughtfully, he relayed this explanation to his teachers, who received it with some grace and more than a little bewilderment.

    "I must admit that I've never heard of a wizard having such an intimate relationship with magic," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "I'm afraid that this is something that you must learn for yourself, Harry, and with the good lady's help as well, of course." He gave an abbreviated bow to Zephyr, who inclined her head gracefully in acknowledgment. Harry got a feeling that she never quite forgave the Headmaster for sending him to the Dursley's. "Well gentlemen, it seems that we cannot progress much further tonight in this regard and I must return to Hogwarts. Harry, be sure to study well."

    Harry nodded and the elderly wizard soon disappeared from the room. When he turned back to face his instructors however, he winced inwardly as he saw the determined looks on their faces. It appeared that training was not over for the day.

    "Well, that's it for magical training," Moody said, his mouth gaping in a grotesque smile. "Let's move on to physical then, shall we?"

    The skinny boy nearly groaned out loud, but the instincts beaten into him at the Dursley's stopped him and instead he nodded, rolling up his shirt sleeves a bit and pulling a length of cloth from his pocket to tie around his head. He found that this was the most effective way of keeping his bangs out of his face during a fight, if he wanted to keep them, that is; Moody had suggested just shaving his head. As it was, the cloth was enough to keep it out of his face and he quickly settled into the now-familiar stance that Shacklebolt had taught him.

    Shacklebolt was one of the rare Aurors proficient in muggle hand-to-hand fighting, which Harry had imagined to be something like the martial arts he had seen Dudley watching once, but was actually more of a science involving the pressure points and weaknesses of the human body that he could use to his advantage. There was a lot of martial arts involved in the more offensive aspect that they were just getting into, but so far Harry was just perfecting the defensive blocks, throws, holds, and such that would put his slight form at the advantage. Shacklebolt was also teaching him something of stealth and spy-techniques, both magical and muggle, that would be invaluable should Harry be attempting a quiet escape from Death Eaters. The advantage to this was Harry's extremely light build, excellent senses and reflexes, flexibility, and speed.

    Moody, who could not do much in these exercises with his fake leg, moved to the side of the room where he readied his wand in order to cast spells at Harry randomly in an attempt to trip him up. Harry had not been exposed to much fighting with multiple attackers and was still improving on this point, even with the help of his increased senses.

    Harry, however, was discovering at the moment just how powerful a motivator pain could be when it came to this part of training. Each time his body encountered Shacklebolt's in a defensive block, a sharp flare of pain erupted in his body and soul, informing him that the large black man was not his mate, but Harry just gritted his teeth and continued to move as quickly as he could. With pain erupting every time he was touched, Harry's inner phoenix was shrieking in offense and pain, causing Harry's senses to magnify to the point where he caught even the simplest of movements suggesting an attack, and his performance was forced to improve in order to prevent more pain.

    Suddenly, the raven-haired boy was drawn out of his thoughts instantly as the minute movement of the Auror's foot caught his attention and in the next second, Harry was moving, dodging an attack. Shacklebolt, adjusting to his pupil's new speed and cognizance, had already had a new attack prepared and Harry couldn't dodge the kick coming to his side. Unbidden, an offended growl came from his throat at this new pain, but he had no time to dwell on it as he sensed a spike of magic behind him and tore his attention away from Shacklebolt for a split second to cast a shield around himself. It was enough. The next second he was flat on the ground as Shacklebolt pinned him to the floor.

    "We will still have to work on attacks with multiple attackers, Harry," the black man said with a grin. "You were better today on a whole than you were before. Have you been trai-" He broke off with a yelp as an electrical shock traveled through his arms and he yanked his hands away from Harry's arms, more in surprise than in pain. Harry's magic, deciding that he wasn't doing much to help protect his own body from the pain constantly assaulting it, had shocked the Auror into getting off of Harry, who just lay there panting with pain and exertion. His head felt a bit fuzzy and his vision was wavering alarmingly, making it appear that two of Moody's fake legs were stumping over to him, and he closed his eyes with a quiet groan.

    Rolling himself over, Harry sat up and rubbed his head, blinking his eyes rapidly to restore his vision. It only helped a little, but he did see that Shacklebolt was rubbing his hands gently to soothe the pain of the blisters that had just sprung over his palms.

    "Oh Merlin, did I do that?" He asked, horrified that he had caused pain without meaning to. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!"

    Shacklebolt began to assure him that it wasn't his fault, but Moody interrupted him with a growl. "Potter, what are those on your arms?" He barked, pointing at Harry's forearms, where red, irritated hand prints stood up from his skin where Shacklebolt had held him too long. Harry shrugged and ran his fingers over them gently with a wince. A shadow fell over him and he looked up, jerking back in surprise when he saw Shacklebolt crouching in front of him and examining the hand prints, his own blisters forgotten.

    "I'd forgotten... You still can't touch people, can you?" He said, understanding dawning. Harry shrugged, blushing in embarrassment, and tugged his sleeves down to his wrists."Why did you continue training? You should have told us at the beginning that you couldn't touch anyone; the pain could have driven you mad if we hadn't stopped right then!"

    "It would've driven you mad and then you would've lashed out at us. You could've killed us," Moody growled accusingly. Harry paled and he shook his head, not believing that his good intentions could have ended so badly.

    "No... I'm sorry, I thought that it would be a good idea to know what it's like to fight while in pain. I didn't... I wouldn't-" Harry cut himself off, looking down at his hands in shame as he thought about what could have happened. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't think." Everyone knew that he had a large amount of power, most of which he couldn't control yet, and the situation that Moody had described could have very well happened if Harry had been pushed enough. Harry felt horrified and disgusted with himself. He couldn't even train to protect himself because of his freakiness!

    "It's alright, Harry," Shacklebolt said quickly, seeing him begin to fall into depression. He sent a glare at the grizzled old Auror, who just shrugged, his magical eye wheeling to scan the room casually. "That _could_ have happened, but I highly doubt it. You couldn't kill your friends, even if they were causing you pain. Come on, we're through for today. Do you need help?"

    Silently, Harry shook his head and shakily got to his feet, standing still and gripping the ground with his toes as the world spun and settled into place around him. He shied away from the kindly Auror's concerned gaze and apologized again before practically fleeing from the room.

* * *

  
    During the last week before he was to return to school, Harry avoided people like a plague. Immediately after cleaning the kitchen from a meal, he disappeared to his room, not being seen until it was time for his training or time for another meal. Shacklebolt had explained what had happened during training and several times Sirius and Remus had attempted to talk to him about it, but Harry had closed them off and refused to admit that anything was wrong.

    In fact, the only person he seemed to accept was Draco, who often stopped by Harry's room to talk or just play chess silently (at a safe distance, of course). It was Draco that ended up confronting him forcefully, but Harry had also shied away from the topic, admitting that something was wrong and that it would be a while before it would be fixed. Draco was the outlet that Harry needed, however, the one that kept him connected to those around him, and the Slytherin seemed to have a sixth sense for what Harry needed. So, they continued to talk and share stories with each other, laughing as they discovered things about the other that they wouldn't have imagined, becoming closer even as Harry pushed farther away from everyone else. Draco seemed to understand, and he didn't push again, but continued to support Harry silently in his frequent visits.

    The nights were even worse than they had been before. During the first vision after his mating instincts had activated, his godfather and former professor had held him down as they normally did, but ended up only causing more pain that ended with Harry falling unconscious even before the vision ended. Horrified, they had apologized profusely when Harry woke, but he assured them that he was alright, that the vision was useless, and took the burn cream that he used for instances such as this. After that, he had put up a powerful silencing charm around his room. He didn't want to put himself or his surrogate parents in the kind of emotional pain that would come with having to tie him down to his bed. Instead, he suffered through the next two visions alone and came up with nothing but haunted eyes and a bleeding forehead in the end. All of the visions had been tortures or deaths, as if Voldemort was mocking Harry's inability to do anything useful.

    When Harry did venture outside he wore long-sleeved shirts and protective gloves, since the effects of touching others seemed to be muted through cloth, and he continued his magical and even his physical training. Contrary to his magical training, where he improved by leaps and bounds daily, his performance was dwindling in physical training. It wasn't that he wasn't learning, it was that he couldn't bring himself to perform fully without risking his control slipping, even with all participants covering their bare skin. It made him feel even more separate, more of a burden. More of a freak.

    Finally, it was the night before September first. Harry had already packed, and he wasn't surprised when Dumbledore called him down to one of the spare studies.

    "Ah, Harry, there you are," Dumbledore said cheerfully, though the twinkle in his eyes was dim as he took in Harry's haggard, exhausted appearance. "I wish that I could have visited you with a lighter matter to discuss, but I need to explain to you what will be happening this year." Harry nodded. The Headmaster had already explained that many things would be difficult this year, and Harry had been so confidant back then that he could handle it. Now, he wasn't so sure. He needed his mate badly. Even Zephyr's calming influence was failing to cheer him up as much as it used to. Harry was brought out of his thoughts as Dumbledore continued, a grave expression on his face.

&nbsp   "Recently, the Minister has passed a new educational decree that allows the Ministry to appoint a professor in the case that I was unable to find one. Due to the circumstances of last year, Alastor has refused to become the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and I have been hard-pressed to find a suitable teacher. Unfortunately, I was forced to submit to accepting their candidate, a Ms. Dolores Umbridge. Harry, I don't need to warn you not to trust her. You know that the Minister is denying that Voldemort has risen again; he is refusing to believe anything that you or I say concerning the matter.

    "Ms. Umbridge," he couldn't seem to bring himself to call her a professor, "is very much under the Minister's sway, and she believes anything he tells her. Thus, she will try to discredit you and goad you into breaking the school rules. If possible, I believe that she may even seek to expel you. You _must not_ let her comments get to you. Try not to react in any way and be sure to keep an eye out for her in anything that you do. Since she will be watching you and I closely, I'm afraid that we cannot interact in any way that would suggest that we are anything but Headmaster and student. I urge you not to contact me through letter or even in person if you can help it; I believe that your friend Zephyr will be most helpful in this regard should you have a vision or concern."

    "I understand, sir," Harry said.

    "Unfortunately, Harry, you will not be able to tell anyone, even your friends, about these lessons," Dumbledore said gravely. "The less people that know about it, the less chances for a curious ear to hear just what Ms. Umbridge would like to know. I trust that Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley already know that you have trained here over the summer, and so it will not be too much of a surprise for them when you appear to be farther ahead than other students in defense and other subjects. The top priority of this year is to lay low and try not to draw attention to yourself."

* * *

  
    The night passed quietly and uneventfully, prompting Harry to wake early enough to cook breakfast for the members of the household as well as prepare his trunk and Hedwig to be transported. The atmosphere at the table was quiet and somewhat tense and solemn. The adults were sad and anxious that Harry had to leave before the issue of his depression had been resolved, while Draco and Harry were talking quietly about the coming year at one end of the table.

    "Be careful of your father, Draco," Harry was warning the blonde in a hushed voice. "Voldemort wants to have you as a spy within the school, and Lucius will try to get back into your good graces again in order to persuade you to get the Dark Mark. The only thing I'm worried about is that he will resort to violence in order to get you to obey if you resist too much."

    Draco appeared to be unworried and cool, but Harry saw a brief flash of worry in the Slytherin's eyes and in the way his mouth twisted downward ever so slightly. "Stop nagging, Harry, I can take care of myself," he said carelessly. "Does my father have a deadline?"

    "Yes, summer of next year," Harry said, nodding slightly. Draco appeared to breathe a small sigh of relief.

    "Quite a bit of time, then. I will have plenty of time to make plans, and hopefully avoid taking the Mark."

    "I'll warn you of any changes," Harry promised before catching the blonde's grey eyes with his own warm green ones; it was the closest he could come to contact anymore. "Be careful, Draco."

    Draco's hand began to move, but he stopped himself at the last moment, instead meeting Harry's eyes with a firm nod. "You too," he murmured, so quietly that if it weren't for Harry's sharpened hearing, he probably wouldn't have caught it at all. As it was, he just nodded solemnly in return but with a soft, full smile.

    Less than an hour later they were standing in the entrance hall with most of the adults, trunks in hand as they waited. Harry, with gloves safely on, shook the hands of the few Order members that were still in the house in farewell, accepting Tonks' and Shacklebolt's secretive winks with a small smile before he was approached by Remus and Sirius.

    "Well, this is it, cub," Sirius said with a bitter smile, trying to sound cheerful but failing miserably. "I'm sorry that your summer has been such a bloody waste; you never seem to get any breaks. All I want you to do this year is relax, lay low at Hogwarts for a while, and try not to fight Voldemort before Christmas. Have some fun, win a few Quidditch matches, kiss a few gir- er... well, find your soul mate, and worry about school work like anyone else."

    "I think what he's rambling about is to just relax and have fun this year, Harry," Remus said with a smile. "Don't worry about _anything_ yet. Be sure to send us owls and know that you can talk to us at any time."

    Harry nodded, feeling a suspicious tingle at the back of his eyes. They had done so much for him this summer and had gone through so much more with him, and he had all but ignored them for the past week. They were his rock in the storm that had become his life this summer, and he could not imagine living without them. If Voldemort dared to even touch them... Harry couldn't resist anymore. He threw himself at the two men despite the pain that burned lightly beneath his clothes where he touched them, and hugged them both tightly but briefly. It was the first time he had ever initiated that kind of contact with them, and the pleased but worried surprise was obvious in their expressions when he took a few steps back.

    "I'll miss you guys more than you'll ever know," Harry said quietly. "I'll try and stay out of trouble for a while at least, and I'll write you as often as I can. Be careful; Voldemort is getting more powerful than you know..."

    They were whisked away to Platform 9 and 3/4 by a Portkey in two separate groups; Harry, Remus and Moody in one, and Draco, Tonks, and Shacklebolt in the other. Harry quickly moved away from their arrival point to mingle in the crowd and say his goodbyes once more. Glancing back in time to see Draco (full Malfoy mask and sneer firmly in place) arrive and shake off the Aurors imperiously, Harry smiled inwardly and heaved his trunk onto the train before finding his and his friend's normal compartment and sitting down. He was quite a bit earlier than usual, and so he didn't expect to see the chaotic Weasley's or even Hermione for a while.

   In fact, it was only about ten minutes before the door of the compartment opened to admit Hermione, who looked rather breathless and excited. Harry was glad that he was sitting down, because if he wasn't, he surely would have been caught up in a hug that would have rivaled Mrs. Weasley's.

    "Hey Harry!" She beamed as she sat down. As she looked him over, however, her smile dropped a bit. "What's wrong? You're looking like you haven't slept in a week! What happened?"

    "I'll tell you later, Hermione," Harry said quickly, "I hope the rest of your summer went well. How did you know I was here already?" She smirked a bit at that, though a worried crease remained in her forehead.

    "I saw the Aurors at your birthday party, Tonks and Shacklebolt, wandering around outside looking a bit lost, and I figured that they must have escorted you here. Dumbledore would have made sure that you got here safely and on time for once." Harry smiled and nodded, figuring that she was the only one who would be smart enough to think of that. "Well, why are we hiding in here, then? Let's go out and wait for Ron!" Hermione said, bouncing to her feet and reaching for his hand to tug him along. Quickly, he jerked his hand down and fisted it into his pocket. Surprised, Hermione narrowed her eyes, the cogs turning in her brilliant mind.

    "Are you wearing gloves, Harry?" She asked. Harry shook his head quickly.

    "Later, Hermione. Let's go find Ron, like you said," he insisted, pulling the door open before she could reply and heading out of the train, hands clenched nervously in his pocket. He was hiding so many secrets from his friends that he wasn't sure which ones they didn't know about anymore. To avoid more questions, he mingled with the crowd, greeting those who called out to him and skillfully avoiding contact when possible. Eventually, he caught sight of a large gathering of bright red hair by the entrance to the platform and he motioned to Hermione before making his way over to them.

    "Harry!" Cried the twins in unison when they saw him and Harry grinned, waving to them. Similar cries went up from the rest of the Weasley's when they turned to see him.

    "Oh, Harry!" Mrs. Weasley looked close to tears, obviously having heard about his inability to touch anyone, and fortunately refrained from giving her trademark bearhug. "You're beginning to look thin again, dear. Ron, look after him and make sure he eats at Hogwarts!"

    "Yes, mum," Ron said, rolling his eyes and mouthing "She's mad!" when she turned around again. Harry had to smile. Some things never changed, and he was beginning to appreciate them more and more as time went on. Suddenly, two arms were slung about Harry's shoulders and he winced violently in both pain and instinctual response, ducking quickly beneath them and ending up behind them. Mrs. Weasley screeched a warning at the twins, who just looked at her and at each other in bewilderment before turning to face Harry and eagerly pulling him off to the side.

    "Hey Harry! We've already got your portion of the proceeds..."

    "...That your fantastic pictures made. Everyone we showed them to..."

    "...Wanted a copy and we've been selling them like mad..."

    "...Raising prices, too..."

    "...But people keep buying them!"

    "Wait, what?" Harry yelped in alarm. "I thought I told you not to do anything with those pictures!"

    "Don't worry, old boy!" Fred (or George) said cheerfully. "It's all perfectly legal and squared away..."

    "...Your pictures are under our name as a product of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes..."

    "...And no one else can cut a profit from them once you sign this contract!" George pulled a thick roll of parchment from beneath his jacket and unrolled the very edge, which asked for a signature.

    "What's this? I'm not signing anything I don't know about," Harry said, eying the parchment distrustfully.

    "We've read through it all carefully and it's legit," Fred assured Harry.

    "Beneath all the legal mumbo-jumbo, it basically says that the Harry Potter trademark..."

    "...Meaning any product with your face slapped on it..."

    "...Belongs to Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes-"

    "Us!"

    "-And no one else can use it for nefarious deeds, like false advertising..."

    "...Or making Harry Potter dolls..."

    "...Or Harry Potter posters..."

    "...Or Harry Potter knickers!"

    Harry paled with each suggestion, nearly passing out at the "knickers". "People can do that? Why haven't they done it before?"

    "Well, no one really knew where you were before Hogwarts..."

    "...And Hogwarts' student policy prevents the press or other public companies from harassing you or taking your picture to put on a poster..."

    "...And no one could seem to get a clear shot of you getting off of the train either..."

    "...And no one knew where you lived."

    "But with the TriWizard Tournament, Harry Potter merchandise..."

    "...Will be appearing like mad if you don't get a handle on it and stop it..."

    "...And this way, you'll get a say of what we do and don't produce with your name on it..."

    "...And you know us, so you know that we won't cheat you out of anything."

    "You're like family, Harry. We won't do anything you don't want us to do." George said solemnly.

    Harry nodded. "I know." Then he frowned. "Wait, but I told you that I didn't want you to do anything with the pic-"

    "And you'll have to sign that contract quick if you don't want those pictures leaked..."

    "...To someone who notices that they don't have a copywrite on them."

    Harry gaped. The twins just smiled innocently back at him, holding the parchment out to sign. "You wankers," Harry grumbled, snatching the contract and signing his name. Instantly, a large logo sporting "WWW" in curly script appeared next to his signature and so did something else, but before he could see it, one of the twins snatched it away from him.  

    "Thanks an awful lot, old boy, you won't regret it!" George said quickly, glancing over his shoulder at Ron and Hermione, who were swiftly approaching.

    "We'll talk about your logo later," Fred whispered in an undertone and slipped away with George before Harry could react.

     Not long after, the piercing whistle of the Hogwarts Express sounded and the final farewells were said quickly as everyone hurried onto the train. Harry returned to his compartment with Ron and Hermione, who were watching him with some concern as he become more and more fatigued as fought his way through the crowd. When he reached their compartment, he threw open the door and collapsed into his seat gratefully, breathing hard and closing his eyes as he tried to control the trembling in his hypersensitive limbs. His friends entered the room as well, sliding the door closed behind them and exchanging a worried glance as they sat opposite the Boy-Who-Lived.

    "Harry, what's going on?" Hermione asked finally.

    "Yeah mate, you look like you've been playing Quidditch for three days straight."

    Harry sighed. He _really_ didn't want to do this. He had decided to tell his friends about the whole phoenix business, at least, his guilt forcing him to give up at least one of his secrets. "It's something really big, but I'll tell you when we get to Hogwarts. Don't you have to go to the Prefect carriage?" Harry had been somewhat surprised when Ron had sent him a letter saying that he and Hermione had become Prefects, but he had instantly recognized it as another of Dumbledore's plans to keep him out of the spotlight and had accepted the warning reluctantly. He didn't really like the way that Dumbledore was constantly controlling aspects of his life without informing him about it, but the old wizard had gotten somewhat better at that and knowing what was going on significantly lowered Harry's stress level. He had taken to teasing his friends (and Draco, who merely insisted that he was jealous that the Slytherin had become a Prefect as well) about it and the small rift had vanished between them.

    Now Hermione gasped in dismay, shooting up from her seat and wringing her hands worriedly. "Oh my goodness, I can't believe I forgot!" She cried, throwing open her trunk and pulling some robes over her muggle clothes. Patting her bushy hair distractedly, she fixed a firm but concerned gaze on Harry. "We'll only stay as long as the meeting, Harry. When we come back, I want a _full_ explanation." She then turned to Ron, grabbing his hand and yanking him to the door. "Come _on_ , Ron, we'll be late!" They disappeared through the door and Harry heard Ron complaining the entire way. Harry smiled sadly. Some things never change.

    Time passed rather sedately as Harry studied new spells from the book Hermione had given him for his birthday. The silence was only interrupted once by Ginny visiting him briefly with Neville and a blond girl in tow. Ginny had introduced the girl as a fourth-year Ravenclaw named Luna Lovegood. Luna had waist-length dirty blond hair, pale eyebrows, slightly protuberant blue eyes that gave her a permanently surprised expression, and she gave off a distinct air of dottiness as she gazed at him unblinkingly. Slightly nervous, he greeted her politely and asked how their summers had been.

    Ginny shrugged, making a face. "Some idiot gave the twins money to work on their inventions and I spent the whole summer walking on eggshells around them. If I ever find out who gave them that money..." Harry chuckled while Neville glanced nervously at the fuming redhead. It seemed that Ginny had finally grown out of her school-girl crush on Harry (he suspected that the fact that she was now slightly taller than he was helped her get over him) and Harry felt relieved. It had been awkward when she had been so obvious, but Harry thought that he wouldn't have minded getting to know her better - before the whole mate business, anyway.

    "I spent the summer searching for Crumple-Horned Snorkaks with my father in the jungles of Africa," Luna said unexpectedly, still staring at Harry. "It was quite pleasurable, you know. And _you're_ Harry Potter."

    Harry blinked incredulously. _Is this girl serious?_ "Er, yeah, I know I am." He and Neville exchanged bewildered glances and Harry saw Ginny stifling her laughter at the corner of his eye. Now that the youngest Weasley didn't look like she would hex anyone who approached her, Neville eagerly began rummaging in his bag.

    "Guess what I got for my birthday, Harry?" The shy boy said excitedly as he produced a plant that looked somewhat like a gray cactus with boils. It appeared to be pulsating slightly. "It's _Mimbulus mimbletonia_ ," Neville said proudly. "It's really rare and has some wicked defense mechanisms. Watch..." He pulled out a spare quill and promptly poked the strange plant near one of its boils. Instinctively, Harry threw up a shield as every one of the plant's boils exploded in streams of thick, stinking dark liquid. It spattered harmlessly against Harry's shield, but caught Neville full in the face and the girls' robes seemed to be covered with the stuff. Neville blushed and stammered apologies as Harry was caught up in laughter.

    Suddenly, the door slid open and Harry turned, still chuckling, to face the person who stood outside. Abruptly, his laughter cut off as he caught sight of Cho Chang. She was smiling uncertainly at him as she eyed the sticky group behind him and, considering all that had happened since the TriWizard Tournament, Harry was not surprised when he felt nothing but uncomfortable guilt when he looked at her. He had, after all, witnessed and had had some hand in her boyfriend's death.

    "Er... Hi, Harry." She said, blushing slightly.

    "Hi, Cho." Harry said blankly. He had expected her to throw a curse or two at him (both verbal and magical) and glare at him with hatred, not blush.

    "I just wanted to say hello and see how you were doing, but, um, this doesn't seem to be a good time..." She trailed off, watching Luna Lovegood try to wipe the smelling sap off of her robes with a dainty handkerchief. Harry cast a _Scourgify_ over his shoulder to stop her from wrinkling her nose in disgust and the sap vanished. She blushed again, this time in embarrassment.

    "Not really," Harry said evenly, stowing his wand back into its holster. "But it was good to see you again, Cho."

    "Er, yeah, it was. Maybe we could meet up again sometime and catch up." She smiled again and Harry nodded politely. They said their goodbyes and with the jovial mood somewhat broken, Ginny said goodbye as well and left, Luna thanking him and Neville apologizing once more as they also left the compartment. Before Harry could brood for much longer, the door slid open again and Hermione and Ron entered the compartment.

    "I'm starving!" Ron complained as he slumped into his seat. "I thought that bloody meeting would never end!"

    "Ron! It wasn't that bad!" Hermione scolded him. "The Slytherins were even somewhat civil; they didn't insult us as much as they normally did."

    "Wasn't that bad? You're mad, 'Mione!" Ron exclaimed, turning to Harry earnestly. "Guess who's the new Slytherin Prefect? Two hours of staring at Malfoy's ugly mug, smirking at us like he knows something we don't. You've got to watch out for that Death Eater scum this year, Harry." Harry smirked a bit inwardly, though some part of him felt rather offended when Ron called Draco scum.

    "That's not much of a surprise, Ron," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "Of course Dr- Malfoy became a Prefect; his daddy probably paid to make sure of it." He knew, however, that this was far from true. Besides Draco's good grades and leadership in Slytherin, Dumbledore had also chosen Draco to be Prefect in order to ensure the blond's safety and to be able to check on him easily. Harry shrugged. "I don't really care, though. I'm going to try to ignore Malfoy and his stupid insults this year. There are more important things than stupid house rivalries."

    Ron stared at him like he had grown two heads and Hermione beamed proudly at him, though some of her concern came back to her. "It's wonderful that you're finally seeing that childish rivalry for what it is, Harry, but last year you hated the Slytherin's guts. What happened?"

    Harry took a deep breath. This was it. He was finally going to tell them one of his biggest secrets of the year. Before answering, he took out his wand and spoke a long string of Latin that set up wards and charms so strong that Ron's eyes were bugging out it surprise and awe. Finally, he sat back with another sigh and faced his friends squarely.

    "Anything I say from now on can never be repeated to anyone, understand?" They nodded nervously, faces taut with worry. At that moment, Harry knew that they would never be able to accept everything he had experienced and learned. The abuse, Voldemort's visions, Draco's friendship... his bond to Zephyr was only scratching the surface, really. His friends, who had lived in blissful ignorance in the loving, protective embrace of their family, would not be able to accept or comprehend the depths of darkness that had touched Harry's life. He had changed, even if it didn't appear so on the surface, and they could not understand the person he had become. Their friendship was been completely coincidental; they had never asked to be thrust into the chaos that was Harry's life and even though the "adventures" they had had so far had brought them closer and were exhilerating, Harry knew how dangerous it would be for them to continue.

    Selfishly, Harry also knew that he would not be able to give up his best friends fully; they were steady rocks of comfort and normalcy to him that he needed to stay sane. He just didn't want them to be changed by the ravages of war that would no doubt surround him at the center of the war; he didn't want their eyes to dull, their laughter to fade, their faces to be pinched with stress and worry. So, he would keep his friends close, but ignorant of what was occurring in his mind. It would not be easy, especially as time passed and they realized that he was keeping things from them, but he would do it even if he was forced to break away from them.

    He prayed that it would never come to that.

    It took the rest of the trip to Hogwarts to explain everything concerning the bond. Ron was completely gobsmacked, gaping wordlessly for several minutes after his was done before he exploded, his words tumbling over themselves as he ranted about the amount of times a wizard had bonded with a phoenix and how Harry was so lucky and did he know how rare it was? After all, for a wizard, the bond with a phoenix was extremely good news. Hermione's eyes were sparkling with excitement and curiosity as she fired off question after question. Harry spent much of the time answering her questions, explaining that his body was hypersensitive to find his mate, and letting them meet Zephyr.

    As he had spoken, the phoenix had been reiterating his thoughts as she analyzed his friends. _They are good people, loyal and loving to you, but they have their faults,_ she had said in his mind. _It would be a mistake to trust all of your secrets with them; too much knowledge could drive them away from you and humans are not always watching their words as closely as they should. For example, the red-headed one is extremely loyal to you, but he also harbors an unstable pool of jealousy and shame in his thoughts that often causes him to act without thinking. He seeks to prove himself and he is very aware of his humble roots and what he thinks he has to live up to. The girl, too, is loyal to you but she puts her trust in adults and books more than in her heart and her friends. She will reveal everything to an adult if she believes it will help you._

    Indeed, Hermione had nearly fainted when she saw the moving tattoo on his arm. "Harry, you got a tattoo? That is _so_ irresponsible!" She had shrieked before he said anything.

    "Wicked!" Ron had exclaimed, an odd look passing over his face before he smiled in a strained way. "You got a tattoo? I bet Sirius loved that; it was probably his idea."

    "It's not a tattoo," Harry protested, dismayed. Ron gave him a disbelieving look, frowning. "Well... ok, yeah, it is, kind of. Mostly, it's the form Zephyr takes when she bonds with my body. Look..." He sent a questioning feeling to the phoenix (he had not yet mastered the ability to actually speak with her yet), and Zephyr burst from beneath his skin in response. She settled on his shoulder and rubbed her head against his cheek in a loving motion, happy to be in her own body once more. Before Hermione and Ron could do much more than stare, however, the train began slowing down as they approached Hogwarts.

    Zephyr let out a soft note and stretched out her head to meet Harry's hand as he reached up to scratch her. She allowed him to scratch her neck briefly before her body began glowing and she vanished back into his body. Harry took off the wards around the compartment and almost instantly the door slid open. Draco's grey eyes glittered with suppressed amusement at Harry as he stood smirking with Crabbe and Goyle flanking him like boulders, and his friend's faces instantly hardened.

    "Well well, if it isn't the Golden Trio," Draco said coldly. "You'd better watch your step this year, Potter, or I might have to give you detention. You see, I, unlike you, have been made a prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments."

    Harry smirked. "Yeah, but you, unlike me, are a git, so get out. I don't want to deal with you this year, Malfoy."

    Hermione and Ron laughed and Draco scowled. "Shut up, Potter, before you get your friends killed just like everyone else that associates with you," he spat, and Harry stiffened slightly. The guilt over causing the deaths at Privet Drive had never really faded, and Harry had thought that Draco would have waited for a while before throwing that insult at him. What was the blond playing at?

    "Just get out, Malfoy, and run to your Death Eater father!" Ron said furiously, standing and reaching for his wand. Draco's eyes flashed back to Harry and Harry saw a flicker of concern in his blank grey eyes before the Slytherin sneered.

    "Oh please, I'm not even going to waste my time insulting you, Weasley. I just came to make sure that Potter knew who he was dealing with." Harry, having regained his composure, rolled his eyes.

    "I don't have time for this, get your arse out of here Malfoy before I make you leave." Draco sneered and took a step back, motioning for his flunkies to back down as they growled menacingly.

    "Don't worry, Potter, it's not as if I actually _want_ to be here. I'll stay out of your way... if you stay out of mine." With that, he was gone.

    "That creep!" Ron growled, shoving his wand back into his pocket. "That bloody Death Eater-"

    "Calm down, Ron," Harry said tiredly, standing to pull his robes out of his trunk. "Just ignore the jerk, he's all talk anyway. Come on, let's get ready." Ron grumbled a bit but set about getting his trunk down from the overhead rack. Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he stood in front of the door to the compartment, steeling himself for the pain he would undoubtedly encounter in the crowded corridors. He was startled when he felt his two friends stand next to him, close enough not to touch him, but the determination in their faces made it clear that they would try and protect him from as much painful contact as they could.

    "Don't worry, mate, we've got your back all the way," Ron said, just barely stopping himself from clapping Harry on the back.

    "Of course we do, we'll never leave your side, Harry." Hermione smiled at him, nothing but warmth and love in her eyes. No fear, no pain, no pity, no worry. They meant every word they said, and Harry's heart nearly broke with the love and guilt and fierce protectiveness that rose in his chest. He smiled gratefully at the both of them before sliding the door open and stepping into the crowded corridor to return to Hogwarts, his first true home.

    The coming year would probably be the most difficult that he had ever faced before, but Harry felt little fear. As long as he had friends like Ron, Hermione, and Draco, he could, and would, survive.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Liked my writing? You might like my Tumblr. rosyourboat.tumblr.com


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